


What You Stole

by grumblebee



Series: Revolutionary Kaiju [2]
Category: Turn - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pacific Rim AU, Recovery, Self Image Issues, Slow Burn, Trauma, fluffy gooey crush stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblebee/pseuds/grumblebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of losing both his wife and best friend in the course of a year, George finds himself falling in love with Ben Tallmadge; a young jaeger pilot who comes looking to him for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fists on the door

**Author's Note:**

> This is a benwash stand alone, but it fits within the plot lines of one of my other fics: Delphinus Major.

_Twenty years of marriage gone in a minute. Two lifetimes of memories severed. One jaeger that will be scrapped, never to be used again. And as of last night, zero close friends to share that horrible, horrible pain_.

\--  
The weeks after Alexander’s death ticked by slowly for George. He was a close friend. One who had picked up the pieces of George’s life when Martha was killed, and put him back together. He spent nights up proposing new outlets for the jaeger program, knowing George was having trouble sleeping. He brought him food and reports, and talked incessantly. George loved it. He loved not having to hear his own thoughts. He had even begun to regain his sense of self.

Now it was just too quiet.

The death was sudden, but not unexpected. Alex and Gilbert had made a fatal call on a kaiju. He should feel lucky they didn't lose all four pilots. In the end, Alex fired the last shot that killed the kaiju, but not before their jaeger was pinned and the reactor detonated.

Still, two loved ones lost in one year. It destroyed him.

George had briefly checked up on the surviving pilots during the first few hours of the wreck. Both were in shock, and badly traumatized. He was told they were being taken care of. Benjamin Tallmadge and Caleb Brewster. Two unfortunately lucky pilots.

Since then he had faded back to a mundane routine. He called the shots on missions, ate alone in his room, and spent the night sleeplessly mourning his wife and friend. But he mostly hated the silence.

“SIR!”

A flurry of pounding on George’s door made him jump out of his skin. He nervously put down his book, pausing to see if the visitor intended on staying.

“PLEASE, _PLEASE_ I BEG YOU”

The sound of heavy sobbing came from the other side. It cut through George like a knife. He quickly rose to his feet to investigate. Whoever it was, they sounded in dire need of help.

The man at the door hardly looked alive. He was disheveled; his clothes wrinkled, hair sticking up at all angles. Red puffy eyes and a matching nose were being frantically wiped by hands. He knew who this was. He had heard what the other pilots had been saying. George swung open the door.

“Mr. Tallmadge.” He said, trying to soften his tone. George had meant to keep talking, to invite the boy in, but he found himself dumbstruck. How was the boy even alive? He looked as if he hand slept in weeks.

Ben’s eyes were full of raw panic. It pulled at George’s heartstrings. It was a face he had seen many days in the mirror while he frantically tried to scrub it off with icy water. It was irredeemably broken.

Ben had not ceased crying, but took to wringing his hands roughly. “I killed him.” Ben’s voice was small, and his posture locked up as of expecting to be struck. Like he expected George to beat him.

George reached out a hand, grimacing at Ben’s instinctive flinch. With a soft touch, George lay his palm flat on Ben’s shoulder. He left it there a few lingering moments, just until Ben could see he had no intention of striking him. Underneath his palm, the tense muscles relaxed.

“Come inside, Benjamin. It's ok. Let's just talk”

Ben complied, shuffling into his room quietly. George breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn't be at risk of hurting himself out there.

Pointing at the bed, George instructed Ben to sit down. He turned from him to prepare some tea on the little kettle and hot plate on the corner. From behind, George could hear Ben struggling to control his breathing. The kettle was set onto the hot plate quickly.

“Talk to me, Benjamin.” George said, his tone soft and even. “Who did you kill?” He knew the answer, he just needed Ben to say it out loud.

“I..I killed Alex.” He stammered.

“How?”

Ben didn't look up from his hands. “I didn't do my duty, sir. I didn't...check. And it got him.”

George sat down next to him on the bed. “And why did you come here tonight?” He whispered. Ben stared at his hands a long time. George could see him working out his words. Trying to pinpoint why in his grief he was banging on doors in the middle of the night.

“I came here to apologize...to you, sir. Alex was...he was…”

“My _friend_. He was my friend, Benjamin.” Ben broke down into tears again. George placed a comforting hand on the back of Ben’s neck. “He was your friend too, Benjamin. Mourning is natural.”

George perked up at the sound of the kettle whistling. He excused himself to pour two cups. Ben accepted it gladly.

“Why are you doing this? Don't you...hate me?”

Something about that shook George. Should he hate him? George thought back to losing Martha, and how he hated himself. How he thought everyone must hate looking at him; a disheveled pathetic widow. He saw all of this staring back at him with big blue eyes.

“No, I don't hate you. In fact, I need your help with something.” That was a lie, but as George had surmised, Alex must have lied to him an awful lot. He could see that now as he reached for a book on his shelf.

“I'm not a good public reader. May I practice with you?” Ben nodded. He seemed taken aback, but not against it. George smiled, and quietly started reading to him. He could see Ben melt, letting his hands rub the warm tea cup soothingly. The boy even participated, helping him pronounce long Latin words, or instructing him to pause or inflect.

It blew him away.

George continued reading, sometimes purposely stumbling over a foreign word to give Ben the opportunity to correct him. When he did, he was kind and humble about it. For a remarkably smart young man, Ben didn't like to draw attention to it.

Four or five cups of tea later George realized they'd been talking for almost three hours. Ben’s panic attack was a distant memory. He even smiled. George felt his breath catch in his chest the first time it happened. A quick flash of pearly teeth, but just enough to make his stomach flutter.

George reluctantly closed the book. Ben’s sweet smile disappeared, replaced with a crestfallen expression. George had to send him back. He didn't want to. Ben’s company was…well...unlike anything he had experienced before. The late hour persuaded George to end their time.

“Benjamin. I don't want you to think I'm turning you away… I know about your nightmares.” Ben’s fingers started to fiddle nervously. George pressed on.

“As you can see...I'm always up. Please, come visit me next time you can't sleep.” He felt a little desperate in asking, but recovered by quickly tapped the cover of the book in his lap. “I need a lot of practice.”

Ben’s smile returned. It was sweet and radiant. George wondered if he looked as dumbstruck as he felt.

“I will. Thank you, sir. You're too kind.”

“No. No ‘sir’ here. Call me George.”

Ben stood idly in the doorway, shifting on his feet. George paused. Maybe he didn't want to leave either.

Those big blue eyes gazed up at him, this time clear and perfect. George felt suspended, as if his feet weren't touching the ground. He couldn't look away.

“Goodnight, George”

The words were soft and sweet. George’s heart skipped a beat.

“Goodnight, Benjamin.”

 


	2. Stains

 George strained his ears, trying to listen over the gentle hum that always ran through the Shatterdome. The tea kettle sat upon its hot plate, maintaining a nice steamy temperature. George had spent the evening looking through his books to find something a little more difficult. The chosen book sat idly on the bed, waiting.

 _Waiting_.

George didn't like the way that sounded. If anything he was _ready_ ; prepared to aide Ben in case of another rough night. Waiting made it sound desperate, like he wanted the poor boy to come crying. It twisted his gut to think about it, and George was forced to pour out a cup of tea for himself to settle it. He pushed aside the notion that he was saving the hot water for Ben. ‘ _You are just having tea, you great idiot’_ George scolded. He didn't focus on how he only filled the cup halfway, keeping the kettle still heavy.

He bypassed the set out tin of chamomile tea, opting for green. George made sure to tear the packet right through the glaring text that read ‘caffeinated’. There was no reason he needed caffeine. He was _not_ waiting.

Even for a half cup of tea, it lasted him the hour. George sat propped up on his bed, reading through the book he had chosen. The language was ornate, and it was easy to get lost amongst the roundabout way of speaking. It took George a few tries to get through one page silently, let alone to focus on what the page actually meant. Maybe Ben would know.

An echoing sound came from the hallway, causing George to perk up. Footsteps, rushed and uneven. They grew louder, accompanied by the sounds of sniffling. George stared at his door. He can't rush to it. He has to see if Ben turns back. George sat at the edge of his bed, clutching his knees like an anxious parent breaking their child of a bad habit.

“...George…?”

The voice was impossibly small, scared even. George’s resolve shattered. He quickly rose to his feet, sparing a glance around to make sure everything looked presentable. His hands shook as he opened the door.

Ben stood quietly, eyes bleary and nose running. He didn't say anything, but the color in his cheeks told George that he felt embarrassed by the situation. Wordlessly, George lay a comforting hand on his shoulder and guided him inside.

With the water all ready, George got straight to pouring out a cup and steeping the chamomile. He noticed Ben’s eyes lingering over his used cup on the nightstand. Did he notice the green ring around the bottom of the porcelain?

“I’m sorry…” Ben whispered, breaking their silence. “I didn't mean to disturb you.”

George handed Ben the cup, and joined him on the bed. “Nonsense. I invited you. Besides, it's been a long night.”

“Green tea?” Ben asked, still looking at the empty cup on the nightstand.

George nodded. “Only a little. To help me practice.” He studied Ben’s face, noting a small smile touch the corners of his mouth. “Would it be ok if you helped me again?” Ben nodded. George was pleased. Ben may not want to talk about his nightmares, but his willingness to help was hopeful.

George opened the book, turning to the first yellowed page. He felt his heart flutter as Ben edged closer to him, their knees brushing briefly. Ben’s eyes quickly scanned the first few paragraphs.

“18th century?” He asked.

‘ _Very clever_ ’ George thought proudly, though he was too timid to pay Ben the compliment. “Yes, _The Castle of Otranto_. I thought the story would help me speak a little more fluidly.” This seemed to please Ben, his blue eyes lighting up with interest. George quelled his own overwhelming excitement to read to the boy. He cleared his throat and started:

“ _Manfred, Prince of Otranto, had one son and one daughter: the latter, a most beautiful virgin, aged eighteen, was called Matilda. Conrad,  
the son, was three years younger, a homely youth, sickly, and of no promising disposition; yet he was the darling of his father, who never showed any symptoms of affection to Matilda.”_

The first few pages stumbled out of George, who constantly stopped to find his place, or correct a slip of the tongue. Ben urged him on gently. Sometimes he would turn the page for George, helping him keep his rhythm. As George paused or inflected correctly, he was rewarded by a soft “ _good_ ” or “ _keep going_ ” from Ben. He would be lying if he said he didn't cherish those little praises.

A chapter in, George had found his stride. The words rolled off his tongue with more ease, though he was still prone to stumbling. Yet he felt as ease with Ben, and glancing up briefly between chapter one and two, George could tell Ben was enjoying their reading. His cheeks were rosy, his eyes flitting from page to page, as if scouting for potential rough patches.

Three pages into the new chapter George felt the sensation of eyes upon him. A few glances confirmed his suspicion. Ben had turned his attention from the book, gaze lingering on George’s lips as he spoke. George mentally scolded himself for stammering as he noticed.

“George, I don't want to be rude...may I ask you something?” Ben said cautiously. George stiffened, but nodded. “You don't open your mouth too wide when you speak. It causes you to jumble the words instead of projecting. Is there a reason you do that?”

George let out a sharp exhale through his nose, amused. In letting this boy tutor him, he had allowed Ben to stumble upon one of his many insecurities. But, in the spirit of comfort, he felt it right to let Ben know the truth.

“I can show you.” He said. Ben’s eyes widened as George opened his mouth, his fingers reaching just beyond the upper canine. He held out his palm, the two false teeth sitting plainly in the center. He paused, trying to gauge if Ben was disgusted.

“ _Holy shit_.” Ben said, a small laugh escaping him. “I was not expecting that. I assumed it was coffee stains.” George let out an embarrassed laugh, hand flying to cover his mouth.

“Oh god, I do have coffee stains”

George cherished the minute or so it took Ben to regain his composure. His body shook with laughter, but it was kind hearted; he (thankfully) wasn't laughing at George.

“How? If that isn't rude, or---”

“No, no it isn't.” George assured him. He looked at the false teeth fondly. “My wife--Martha, she was my copilot. We were the first to successfully initiate a two person drift. We had seen nothing like it before. _Felt_ nothing like it before” Ben leaned in, attentive.

“Do you know that feeling, Benjamin? When your blood runs cold, and you’re hit with the most intense burning sensation as your copilot takes over? The feeling of fullness, of sharing your body and mind until you no longer know which memories are yours and which are borrowed…”

Ben nodded.

“It almost drove me insane. No one told us it would be that intense. No one _knew_. Martha took over, and my whole body was on fire. I was bursting at the seams. I could feel her in my toes, my hands, my _teeth_. I had to relieve the pressure. I had to make room, and I…” George turned the teeth in the palm of his hand. “I ripped them out.”

There was a long moment of silence between them. Ben stared down at George’s palm, not focusing on the teeth. Instead he focused on George’s ring finger, which was bare.

“She’s passed, Benjamin. Last year. As much as I hated the pain of that first drift...I miss it. I miss her dearly. My body is too empty. I made all this room for nothing.”

A soft hand helped him close his fist around the teeth. George stiffened a bit as Ben gently wrapped both his hands around the fist.

“Don't cry, George…” He whispered.

George hadn't noticed he was crying. He quickly dabbed them away with his free hand, a little embarrassed. He was supposed to be here for Ben. Now he was just unloading his grief onto an already troubled soul.

“I'm really glad you told me. It means a lot...you know...that you understand.” Ben said softly. “Your wife was brave. A hero.”

“So was Alex”

Ben smiled. He gently released George’s hand, though George desperately wished he held it longer. Instead, he took the book off of George’s lap, running a slender finger down the page.

“Where were we...oh, here it is:  
_She related the adventure of the young peasant who had been discovered in the vault, though with many simple additions from the incoherent accounts of the domestics; and she dwelt principally on the gigantic  
leg and foot which had been seen in the gallery-chamber…”_

George watched breathlessly as Ben read to him. Each sentence came like a gentle current, carrying his thoughts away. It rolled off Ben’s tongue and through pink lips effortlessly, wrapping George in a warm soothing feeling he couldn't quite name.

He picked up his tea and drank deeply, gazing over the rim longingly. That warm feeling in his chest spread, his cheeks pinkening as he took in the sights and sounds of young Ben Tallmadge.

“George?”

Ben looked up at him; those doe eyes and parted lips tearing George apart. _Stunning. Absolutely stunning_.

“Yes, sorry. Please continue.”

_Don't ever stop._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is (technically) a prequel to my other fic Delphinus Major. More of this pairing shows up there, as well as in the Drabble fic Top Bunk. All three are set in the same Pacific Rim AU.
> 
> More short Benwash prompts (NSFW and otherwise) are on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy.


	3. Winters

“I’m still a little lost as to what’s going on here” George laughed, passing a steaming cup over to Ben. Ben sat cross legged on the bed, balancing the open book in his lap. He was flipping through the pages to make sure they had read properly.

“I mean, you read it right. His son gets crushed to death by a falling helmet, and now he’s on a wild goose chase to marry his son’s betrothed.” Ben said with lighthearted disbelief.

George settled down on the bed next to him. “If only it were that simple all the time.” He sighed. Ben shook his head comically, hair brushing slightly against George’s (now pink) cheek.

“Gothic romance”

“ _Gothic romance_ ” George tutted.

George settled back into the pillows, watching Ben take a long sip from his mug. This was his third or fourth visit, in as many days. The night would begin earlier for George, who fell into the routine of prepping his room for Ben’s arrival. The kettle would be on, book ready, bed neatly made. Though it didn't make sense for him to make it, since the two sat on the bed and wrinkled the tucked sheets as they spoke.

Then would come the sounds of shuffling, or sniffling. George would wait patiently for Ben to reach his door, and make himself known before being let in. The sight of Ben each night, frazzled and raw, nearly moved George to tears. He had to resist the urge to yank the boy into a hug, and wring the suffering out of him.

Yet today the tears didn't last too long. George had swung open the door rather quickly, catching Ben with one hand suspended in a knock. His eyes were wet and puffy, but upon seeing George’s face a brief smile broke across his lips. George could have fainted with delight. He ushered Ben inside to begin their night, which led them to here: him and Ben, shoulder to shoulder on the bed, a book in hand and laughing.

He looked healthy. The deep set bags George had seen under Ben’s eyes that first night had reduced considerably. It may not be at night, but the boy was definitely getting sleep. It sparked something in George, the thought that maybe these visits meant something to Ben. That they helped him sleep, or that he slept in a way to keep these meetings going.

Ben shook out a noticeable shiver. George looked him over, noticing he was gripping the cup extra tightly. The shirt of his pjs were thin, not sturdy enough to keep out the damp chill that settled in the Shatterdome in early December. George got off the bed briefly, pulling back the covers. “Here, Ben…”he said, moving some pillows up. Ben’s face turned scarlet.

“Oh, I couldn’t--I mean, it’s all made and--”

“Please, you’re cold, Benjamin.”

Ben paused, biting his lip. George felt a little twinge of panic. Had he been too forward? The thought of Ben leaving--thinking he was trying to coerce him into bed-- scared him. To his surprise, Ben set the cup on the nightstand, quickly scrambling under the quilt. The panic in George’s gut melted into that heavenly hot tingle as he watched Ben pull the quilt right up to his nose. ‘ _Does he know how cute this is_ ’ George thought, lifting the quilt just enough for him to slide in. He expected Ben to shimmy over, but the boy stayed put, slumped low next to George in the bed.

“This is your first winter in the Shatterdome, isn’t it?” George asked, a little amused at Ben’s theatrics. From above the blanket, Ben’s blue eyes gazed up at him through long lashes. A slight ‘ _mmhm_ ’ came muffling through the fabric. George held that gaze as long as he could, unable to control the smile creeping over his lips. _Those eyes will be the death of me, I’m sure._

“Then let me be the first to warn you; they’re terrible. It’s damp, cold-- pipes burst. Your best bet is to stay under that quilt.” George said. Ben rolled the quilt down to his chin.

“You couldn’t pay me to move.”

_God, I’d pay you to stay._

“I don’t carry my wallet in these pajamas.” George chuckled. Ben smiled,his fingers still curled over the edge of the blanket. His cheeks and nose were rosy, stained with an inviting warmth that tempted George to swoop down and lay a kiss upon them. The thought made him blush.

These past few nights had been surreal. Ben’s company was enthralling; he was so intelligent, so very kind, and he radiated a kind of beauty George had never encountered before. Maybe it was the innate rawness of their relationship, founded on ugly tears and sleepless nights. It thrilled George. Sitting in bed, clad in lazy pjs, reading to one another until the wee hours of the morning. It was intimate. It felt like...felt like…

‘ _Oh God_ ’ George balked, the realization hitting him like a truck ‘ _I’m falling for this poor boy’_

George’s heart threatened to leap out of his chest. This wasn't supposed to happen. He should have known this would happen. The buzz of excitement in his stomach as night rolled around, the way he watched the doors, the primping and preening--Oh _God_ the _primping_. Scuttling around his room tucking things away neatly, examining himself in the mirror. ‘ _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ ’ George screamed internally. ‘ _It's so obvious.’_

Ben shifted under the blanket, his hip rubbing up against George’s leg. George felt a jolt of arousal, and panicked. ‘ _This is not the time. Please do not do this right now_ ’ He quickly picked up the book, opening it up over his lap. He took a few moments to look over the page and steady his breath.

Nothing had to change. George would still be there for Ben. He would care for him and ensure the boy was well. This was just temporary. He missed intimacy. He missed Martha. _That must be it_. Not even Alex was this open with him. But George wanted to be this open with Ben. He wanted to keep him close, tucked away under his quilt where nothing would hurt him. To preserve that sweet smile that would disappear outside this bunk.

George perked up at a small sound. Soft, little snores, escaping the now passed out Benjamin Tallmadge. George leaned down, lips close to Ben’s forehead.

“ _Benjamin_?” He whispered.

Ben did not rouse. George watched his sleep slackened face, glowing with warmth. His long lashes twitched, and those pink lips parted to let out those tiny snores. George contemplated waking him up. Ben must have been exhausted, and George feared sending him back might disrupt the gift of sleep grief often withholds.

He set the book aside, dimming the bedside lamp before settling down into the pillows. Ben shifted, fingers grasping at the sleeve of George’s silk top. George let him have the arm. Something warm Ben could wrap his arms around, bury his face in. Ben gripped him like a vice, sending heavenly sparks through George. 

  
George felt his eyelids growing heavy. As they slid shut he made one silent prayer, asking if Ben would come to stay every night. Hold him more each and every night. 

_That would be paradise_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Benwash stuff can be read/requested on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy. 
> 
> Feedback always appreciated! Let me know you're having a good time.


	4. Pillow Talk

_George’s hands tangled in that mess of hair, cementing his grip as he locked lips with the hazy form in front of him. It was quiet, amplifying the soft pants and moans between them. He was being pushed onto the bed, straddled and grinded upon. George didn't have to lift his eyes to know who this was. It was Ben. It would always be Ben._

_George’s stare lingered on the bulge in Ben’s boxer briefs. The fabric between them rubbed tortuously over his cock. He wanted more. He wanted to see everything. He wanted Ben more than anything._

_Ben looked down at him with hunger. He could see right through him. Teasingly, Ben tugged at the elastic band of his underwear, offering George a peek at his hipbone, and the promise of his cock. George moaned. He wanted to /touch/ him. His hands were frozen. He couldn't move._

_He watched as Ben slipped a hand beneath the waistband, working at the bulge George was admiring. George throbbed. It was so good. Ben touching himself, eyes closed, rubbing up against the hand hidden beneath the fabric. His hips rolled, giving George a taste of the friction Ben was getting off on. He craved it. He wanted to rip that hand away and replace it with his own. Let Ben make those faces /because/ of him._

_“Oh George--” The sound set off sparks in his brain. “George, George…” Ben was working himself into a fervor, George all but helplessly watching. Those pink lips parted with sighs as his face became more flushed with pleasure. “George, you have to--”_

_“Yes?” He gasped desperately._

_“Wake up.”_

_“What?”_

“George, wake up.”

George’s eyes snapped open, quickly taking in his surroundings. He was in his bed, yes. But so was Ben. _Ben_. He had forgotten that the boy slept here last night. George quickly bunched the blankets over his groin, hoping Ben had not seen or heard anything.

“What time is it?”

“It’s six. I...I fell asleep”

Ben sat close to him, blankets pulled up to his chest to keep out the cold. He looked embarrassed. George scolded himself internally. Why did he let him sleep here? He must feel so uncomfortable. George was essentially his _boss_.   
He cleared his throat.

“I...fell asleep too.”

Ben smoothed out the quilt in his lap nervously. “Is that...ok? That I stayed?”

The question caught him off guard. He had expected Ben to apologize, or try to explain why it happened. But Ben wasn't doing that. He wanted to know if it was alright. Alright that he stayed...maybe with the intention of staying again.   
George smiled. Last night was the deepest sleep he’d had in almost a year. He felt great, albeit a little aroused and embarrassed.

“Yes, Benjamin. It was…” George searched for the right word “...cozy”. George spied a smile tugging at Ben’s lips. _So very cozy._ Ben crawled out of the bed, much to George’s disappointment.

“I should start going. I need to see the doctor today.” He sighed. George became alert.

“Are you still hurt, Benjamin?”

Ben tucked his feet into his slippers. “No, actually I… I’m getting evaluated to go back on duty. Caleb says R&D is close to being done with our new jaeger. He heard so from some old friends at the Greenland assembly line. I want to make sure everything is fine. That I can still fight.”

George’s heart sank. He wished he had Ben’s courage. That he wasn't so bereaved that he retired from pilot life as an undriftable mess. “You’ll do brilliantly, Benjamin.” George said. Ben smiled widely.

“I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Please, do.”

George watched as Ben tried to smooth down a few wild locks, and hoped he wasn't staring too noticeably. He met Ben at the door, letting him out into the hall. Ben fiddled with his hands.

“Thank you.” He said, only glancing up briefly from his hands. “Really...I don't know what I would have done that first night. And you've been so kind---”

George leaned against the door frame. “I owe you more thanks, Benjamin. You didn't have to help me with my readings…”

“Oh, but I love it---!” Ben blurted. He turned scarlet. “I mean--- I like it. I really enjoy our readings” George felt like his heart was about to burst. He wished it wasn't morning. That he and Ben could sit for just a few more hours. Maybe doze off.

“I enjoy them too. Greatly. Run along, Benjamin, I don't want you late for your exam. I’ll see you later?”

Ben tucked some hair behind his ear. “I’ll see you later.”

The door clicked shut, and George returned to his bed. ‘ _He likes it_ ’ George thought, falling into the warmth of the quilt. ‘ _He /loves/ it’._ George turned over, pulling close the pillow Ben used. It smelled like him...like his hair. Jasmine. Light and innocent. Flowers tucked in blonde locks in the warm glow of daylight.

George buried his face into the pillow, taking in the sweet floral scent. That familiar warm feeling pooled in his gut, and the ache returned as George recalled his dream. “Oh, _Ben_ ” George groaned into the pillow.

He imagined what it would be like. Touching Ben. To slowly undress him and lay kisses down that long neck. How soft those lips might be, and the sweet sounds that would escape them as George slid his hands beneath the waistband of Ben’s briefs.

George moaned into the pillow again, rocking his hips against the mattress. His hand worked under his waistband, and George mimicked each and every stroke he wished to use on Ben. He could almost hear him moaning for more. George picked up the pace, imagining shooing away shy hands as he pulled down Ben’s briefs. Lowering him onto the bed.

Oh it was too much. The thought of Ben splayed out on the mattress, hips bucking up into George’s mouth, wearing nothing but the sweet scent of jasmine---

“ _OH_ ”

George came, groaning into the pillow. He laid like that for a minute, breath shaky, hand still tucked in his waistband as his cock ceased twitching. His head was swimming. Between the smell of jasmine and the sticky residue drying on his thighs, he felt like an utter mess.

George rolled over, releasing Ben’s pillow from his iron grip. His heart wouldn't stop pounding. The thought of Ben, in any shape or form, sent him reeling. George raised a hand to his forehead, applying pressure to his temples. This was dangerous. He needed to regain control; to push these thoughts from his mind and keep whatever little shred of dignity he had left. How could he face this poor boy knowing he had jacked off to the scent of his shampoo?

Ben’s words returned to him, “but I love it”. George shook his head violently, as if to dash the thoughts into oblivion. ‘ _He loves the readings, you fool. Not your hand down your pants_ ’ He felt dirty. Poor Ben trusted him, and look what he’s done. Made a mess of himself.

No more time could afford to be wasted. George opened to door to his private bathroom, starting up the hot water. He stripped, grimacing at the way his pants stuck to him as he peeled them off. Then he scrubbed harder he ever had before. George had to erase all traces of this. Too much was expected of him. He was a General. He was in charge of the only program standing between the world and kaiju invasion. There was no room for error.

George stepped out of the shower, dripping onto the bath mat. He stood there a few seconds, not quite ready to towel off and leave. If he left, he needed to be composed. As George watched the pool of water at his feet grow larger he realized composure was going to be difficult to achieve today. His pajamas were ruined, his pillow smelled like jasmine, Ben was going to step back into a jaeger, and he….

He was too frightened to move.

Dear God, he was too frightened to move.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More benwash prompts can be found on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy! I answer requests and head canons. 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. Let me know you're having a good time :)


	5. Migraine

George rubbed his temples, the stabbing pain behind his eyes growing sharper.’ _Utter horseshit_ ’ The morning had hit him like a train, ruthlessly dragging him from one disaster to the next.

“Sir, black market trespassers have been interfering with research crew” _Perfect_.

“Sir, Skagway development center says they can't ship new synapse fluid until they rebuild their port” _Fantastic_.

“Sir, Jade Hanoi is experiencing critical muscle strand deterioration. It needs to be sent back to Greenland for disassembly.” _Well isn't that just fucking peachy._

Each new knock on his door brought more and more fuel for the fire behind his eyes. George put his head in his hands, squeezing his skull for dear life. God, this day just wouldn't end. It was only 1 pm, the thought of four more hours of this nightmare made his skin crawl.

George winced as another knock rapped against the metal door. From between his fingers he could make out PPDC issued boots, and the matching grey jumpsuit.

“Yes, what is it _now_ \---”

“George?”

George picked his head up out of his hands abruptly. His eyes struggled against the pain, trailing up the legs and torso of the figure in front of him. They settled on a pair of brilliant blue eyes.

“ _Benjamin_ ”

George was a little embarrassed by the breathless way he spoke his name, but By God...he was _beautiful_. Standing tall, shoulders back, that golden hair neatly combed and parted. The uniform was practically molded to him. He looked like the perfect poster child of the jaeger program. It left George speechless.

“I'm sorry if you're busy, I said I’d drop by to talk about the evaluation. I...brought lunch. Is soup ok?”

George spied the bag in Ben’s hand, and his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten at all really. He wasn't even expecting to see Ben until tonight. This was...this was perfect.

“Soup would be a godsend. Come on in. Close the door behind you. I don't need anymore stress right now” George said, resisting the urge to massage his temples. He didn't want Ben to leave because he was unwell. The pain would just have to sit on the back burner.

Ben hurried in and locked the door. George smiled, the boy understood him well. That pain rattled in his skull as George stood up to help Ben unpack their lunches.

Ben pried off the lids on the containers. “I didn't know your preference, so I brought one chicken noodle and one tomato basil.” He said, placing napkins next to the little white containers.

George picked up the tomato basil, his hand brushing against Ben’s lightly. Ben smiled shyly, taking the remaining soup. “I pictured you as more of a chicken noodle man.” Ben jested, crumbling crackers into the steamy broth.

“Chicken noodle is my favorite but I'm afraid I over did it.” George said, stirring the thick red soup in front of him. “I got it in my head to eat it every day, lunch and dinner, for two weeks straight.” Ben laughed, and George didn't mind the searing pain it caused behind his right eye.

The two didn't say much at first. Quietly sharing a meal seemed to be enough, and for that George was grateful. That morning still weighed heavily on him, and the sight of Ben’s little pink tongue darting out to catch a rogue noodle was enough to bring back the full force of his fantasies. ' _Oh what I wish that tongue would do_ '. A jab in his temple thankfully rid him of the thought.

“I passed the evaluation.” Ben said, breaking the silence. “I’m...happy. I get to go back.” He was beaming, and George felt a swell of pride. Ben was being too humble. The boy was a gift, there was no way he would have failed, yet he spoke as if he were lucky to be given consideration.

“I'm proud of you, Benjamin. You're a very promising pilot.” George said. Ben perked up, and George felt out of place as he towed the fine line between boss and companion. “Your file...I reviewed it. Perfect simulator scores, perfect combat results, perfect _health_. You were built for this life.” Ben blushed at the compliment.

“Thank you. I, uh, didn't know you knew.”

George’s heart sank a bit. In actuality, he didn't know until fairly recently. Ben graduated academy shortly after Martha died. Alex had personally picked him, acting as proxy for George during the toughest part of the grieving. George only faintly remembers meeting the boy once, though he was fairly numb and out of it. When was it? Induction? No, it stood out for some odd reason. Andre found it hilarious. Mess hall? No...no it was….

 _’OH_ ’

“I was there for your first drift, Benjamin.”

Ben blanched, sputtering on a mouthful of broth. George didn't know why he said that. Why he blurted that out. Upon revisiting the memory it definitely wasn't something Ben would like to be remembered for. The color that had drained from Ben’s face returned with a beet red vengeance.

“I---I--I had an _adverse_ reaction.” He stammered. George nodded, remembering standing absently mindedly in the command room. Andre shaking with laughter at the noises over the intercom. Turning to George, tears forming in his eyes _“I think the boy just came”_

George’s cheeks felt hot. Why the hell did he bring that up. Ben wasn't making eye contact. “I’m not making fun, Benjamin. Really...I… I just remembered is all.” Ben was squirming in his seat, not making eye contact.

“It felt--- _overwhelming_.” Ben mumbled. “Like you described your first time...that fullness. Only I don't know what happened. There was someone else inside me and it just _happened_.”

George reached across the table to pat Ben’s hand. It trembled under his touch. “Drifting is an intense experience. The body reacts to stimuli in its own way. You just had to do some laundry...I needed dental work.”

Ben let out a little laugh, looking up from his lap. “This is silly.” He sighed. George let his hand rest upon Ben’s, brushing his thumb over the soft skin.

“It is isn't it?”

Those words hung in the air as George brushed his thumb over Ben’s hand once more. His gaze rose from their hands to Ben’s face; pink cheeked, eyes half lidded. George had to fight the intense urge to climb over the desk and straddle him. He’d crush the poor boy, but it would be worth it just to kiss and bite at that neck. A twitch of arousal told George he better remove his hand and move onto other topics.

“I, uh, have something you might like to see.”

Ben’s eyes lit up, snapping out of whatever haze had come over him. George withdrew his hand from Ben’s (immediately missing it's warmth), and picked up a file he had stashed away.

“Caleb Brewster was right. This was sent over from Greenland this morning.”

Inside the folder were glossy pictures of a brand new jaeger. Ben ran his fingers over the contours, admiring the exposed whirring blades in the chest. He laughed at the large group picture included; all the assembly workers waving and cheering, holding a sign saying “Go Get ‘Em, Caleb!”

“It's beautiful.” Ben said. George couldn't help but feel giddy, the good news wasn't over yet.

“There's one more thing I think you should look at.” George said, pulling a handwritten letter from the back of the folder. “ _This_ was shuffled in amongst the pictures. No doubt you’d like to read it.”

Ben picked it up cautiously. It was Caleb’s loopy, messy handwriting.

“ _Dear General Washington,  
You're a busy man, so I’ll be quick. Our Benny is the finest pilot this program may ever have. What happened to Dragoon Titan ripped him apart. I feel it's important to preserve his faith in humanity, so that when Ben is cleared and ready to fight, he steps into a jaeger that represents what we stand for. The people we protect. That is why I humbly request that you christen this jaeger as Seta Five._

_Lots o’ love,  
Caleb Brewster”_

Ben looked up from the letter. “Seta Five?” He asked. George smiled, laying out another sheet in front of him.

“This is the roster for this year’s academy”

Ben’s teary eyes scrolled down the page, quickly landing on the highlighted names:

 _Anna Strong_  
Selah Strong  
Abraham Woodhull

The tears rolled freely now. “ _Setauket_ Five” Ben said, his voice breathy and shaking with joy. George came around the desk to lay a hand on Ben’s shoulder.

“It seems your friends have rallied behind you. Upon their graduation, I have arranged for them to be station right _here_. Would that make you happy, Benjamin?”

George was startled as Ben leapt out of his chair and threw his arms around him. “ _Thank you, thank you!_ ” Ben cried. The boy was on tiptoes, burying his face into the crook of George’s neck as he let out a few joyful sobs. George wrapped his arms around Ben’s waist, being bold enough to press Ben again him. He closed his eyes, rocking Ben gently to and fro in their hug. ‘ _Oh Sweet Benjamin.’_

It felt right. For the first time in almost a year, George felt blissfully happy. There was nothing more he needed. Benjamin’s head on his shoulder, hips rocking back and forth with his, the fresh smell of jasmine as George rested his cheek on the top of Ben’s head. It was serene. That was until his migraine decided to leap off the back burner and right into his skull.

George winced, and Ben lifted his head immediately.

“George, what's wrong? Oh-- I shouldn't have grabbed onto you so suddenly.”

Ben dropped down from his tiptoes, and George tried to mask the wave of arousal he felt from Ben’s body sliding down his. Ben had brought his arms down, but George still firmly held onto his waist. He didn't want Ben running off. He didn't want to stop holding him.

“Benjamin, it's fine. I've just been battling a migraine all day.” George sighed. He hadn't meant it as some invitation, but Ben quickly snatched up the opportunity.

“Let me help! P-please”

“No, I couldn't. It’ll go away.”

George’s breath hitched as Ben pressed closer to him. His dewy eyes looked pleading. George couldn't look away.

“ _Please_ George. You've done so much for me. Let me help. I’d do anything”

‘ _No, don't tempt me_ ’

With all the breath gone from him, and his knees beginning to feel like jello, George had to agree. He closed his eyes and nodded. Ben wiggled out of his embrace, and instructed him to sit in his chair.

“I'm turning off these lights. You should also take off your jacket.” George was glad the lights had already gone out as the heat rose to his face. His body thrummed with anticipation. The two were alone, only barely able to make each other out by the faint light that filtered through the thick frosted glass pothole.

The first sensation he felt was Ben’s long fingers working the knotted tie at his throat. George lifted his hands to help, but Ben made a noise of disapproval. “I'm just loosening the collar to let the blood flow.” He whispered, undoing the top two buttons of George’s dress shirt.

Ben’s fingers were talented. George closed his eyes and sunk into the divine treatment his neck and scalp were receiving. Ben’s thumbs would run up the sides of his neck, curving over his ears before squeezing the throbbing pulse points in his temples. His fingers worked around the eye socket, kneading out the stabbing pain.

It was so easy to melt under those fingertips. He felt malleable, like a lump of clay Ben was massaging the flaws out of. Each new pass of those slender fingers replaced throbbing pain with sweet relief. It was intoxicating. George couldn't fight the low throaty moan that rose out of him as Ben squeezed just the right pressure point.

“You’re loosening up. That's good.” Ben whispered. The words sent shivers down George’s spine. Thoughts of Ben’s fingers massaging their way down the rest of his body bubbles up. ‘ _How loose does he want me?’_

“Does this happen a lot? The migraines?”

George sighed, feeling Ben’s fingers reduce pressure. He was wrapping up. “More frequently than I’d like.” George said. Ben’s hands stayed on either side of his forehead, his fingers moving in soft little circles. _Pressureless_ soft circles.

“May I see you tonight? I can help a little more with this. And the reading.” Ben asked, his voice hopeful and excited. George was surprised it was even a question. He wanted nothing more than to have Ben visit him every night.

“Yes, of course! Come by tonight. I always look forward to your help.”

Ben blushed, George could tell from the way he shifted shyly. “Then I’ll stop by tonight.” George almost swooned when Ben stooped over to wrap his arms around George’s neck.

“Thank you, truly. I don't deserve your kindness.”

George held one of the hands draped over him. “I think you’ll find there’s enough in that folder that disproves that.”

Ben chuckled, giving George’s hand a quick squeeze before withdrawing from him.

“See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More benwash stuff can be seen on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy. I take prompt requests, answer questions etc!
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. Let me know you had a good time!!


	6. Creature Comforts

George thanked God for the pillow in his lap. He must look a wreck, but Ben’s fingers working up and down his neck was divine.

As promised, Ben had stopped by that night. George had been waiting up, anticipation coursing through his veins. Ben’s visits had always been so quaint; and while George still kept up the routine of making tea and setting out their book, the lingering feeling of something more arousing hung over him.

Ben made small talk. They quickly danced around how the rest of their day went. George dealt with three more disasters, Ben celebrated the good news with Caleb. Then came the line that George had been contemplating all day.

“How’s your migraine?”

It had been somewhat relieved that afternoon, but working on afternoon disaster 2 of 3 sent stabbing pains through his skull.

“It came back, unfortunately. I'm still a little sore.”

Ben looked concerned, but something in the way he looked George over made him feel exposed. He hardly resisted as Ben led him to the bed.

George sat upright, with Ben on his knees behind him. His silk top was loose enough that he didn't need to unbutton for Ben to work him over. George gave in at the first pass of those long slender fingers. ‘ _Oh my God, this isn't real_.’ Ben must have learned where the pain settled, because he kneaded it relentlessly. George inhaled sharply as one finger rolled over the throbbing spot in his temple.

Ben shushed him softly, offering only a few words as he worked. “Like this?”, “Head back”, “This good?”. George could do no more than to whine for each response; the boy had reduced him to mush. Those _fingers_. George had been so fixated on Ben’s mouth that those ten digits almost slipped from his mind entirely. But _feeling them_? George pressed down on the pillow in his lap, hiding something he truly wished those fingers would knead.

He had no idea how long they were like that. George moaning and panting into Ben’s palms, with Ben whispering gently. It felt like an eternity. He should feel embarrassed, writhing like this-- making noises. Perhaps he will be once the treatment stops. But as Ben rolls his thumbs up George’s neck, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and let's out a deep growl; and for a second...Ben’s hands go limp.

They just... _melt_.

George realizes how depraved he sounded, and opens his mouth to apologize, but by then Ben’s hands had regained composure. They rolled back down his neck, replacing his words with a shaky exhale and strangled groan. It's not much longer until Ben finally pipes up.

“Maybe you need potassium.”

George turns, breaking the contact he and Ben were sharing. “You think so?” Ben was still kneeling, hands on his hips, biting his lip in deep thought.

“Yeah, I mean...unless you're really into bananas it's kind of hard to remember to eat them regularly. They help with cramps, and migraine stuff I heard”

George couldn't silence the sound of his stomach growling at the mention of food. Ben snapped out of his thoughts. “Did you eat at all after lunch?”

George flashed him a shy smile that said ‘ _You caught me’_. “George!”

“The migraine was intense. I couldn't handle the mess hall. I came down here and slept most of it off” Ben hummed. He seemed to agree, but was still in the process of scolding George. It was adorable. A similar growl from Ben sent him into hysterics.

“ _Benjamin_!”

“I know! I know! But it's different. I'm not the one who needs potassium”

“Now hold on, _you don't know that”_

Ben shoved his shoulder playfully, and got off his knees. “Aren't you starving?” He asked, his hand resting in the middle of George’s back. George liked the way Ben rubbed his thumb against the silk of the shirt.

“A little.” George said, looking Ben over. “Are you?” Ben looked a little shy, like he didn't want to ask George for food.

“Yeah, but it's past midnight. Mess hall is closed down.”

George wasn't one to brag, but the temptation to go on a little escapade with Ben was too great. He held up a hand, pausing their conversation as he rummaged through the nightstand. George found was he was looking for: a large key ring, filled with dangling brass and silver keys.

“I have the key to the kitchen”

George relished the mischievous smile forming on Ben’s lips. “We could open up, make a little something, and bring it back here.” ‘Just let me feed you’.

“Can you _do_ that?”

George took Ben’s hand, and helped him off the bed. “They wouldn't give me a key if I couldn't. So, are you hungry?”

“ _Yes_ ”

\--  
George felt electrified as he and Ben scampered down the hall towards the elevator. George gripped the key ring tightly, the jangling sound amplified tenfold, threatening to wake people up. That, and the uncontrollable fit of giggles escaping Ben as they crammed into a service elevator.

George turned the elevator key. “Shhhh. You’ll give us away, Benjamin” he whispered between giggles.

The kitchen lights were on, but the door was locked tight. George clicked it open, and guided Ben through. To those who had been living on kaiju ration cards, the Shatterdome kitchen was heaven. Sleek stainless steel appliances ready to prepare any food you could dream of. Two large walk in pantries the size of small apartments, all filled with canned goods. A walk in freezer. Walls full of refrigerators. George watched as Ben marveled at the sheer size of it.

“It's so _big_ \-- I mean it has to be, because of this place, but still”

“This is only the first floor. Downstairs is the grain storage and root cellar. Not as impressive to look at, though. Come now, let's get you something to eat.”

Ben nodded, starting his search for ingredients. He worked fast, pulling out some bread and cheese before heading to the stove. “Grilled cheese?” George asked, heading toward the canned pantry.

“Yup. You?”

George pulled a can off the shelf. “Peas and onions” he said, catching the faint “ _Wait, what?_ ” from Ben’s spot by the stove. George met him at the counter, draining the liquid from the can.

“It’s comfort food.” George hummed, grabbing a handful of the already chopped white onions in a Tupperware. Ben looked at him strangely as he heated up oil in a pan, and threw the onions in.

“Is it?”

Ben flipped his grilled cheese onto a plate, and wrapped it up before joining George by his frying pan. The onions sizzled nicely in the pan, and George felt enveloped in the sweet memories they unearthed.

“I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. They lived through the Depression, and though that seems less dire than the world we live in now, it was still hard. Growing up with them I always noticed they made the same meal each night. Some left over meat--if any-- and peas and onions. It was simple, and it filled them. Some days, even when I was with them, we didn't have meat. But peas and onions were always on the table.

It's silly, and childish, but it's comforting. They survived so much on so little. When the first kaiju breached, I made this for dinner. Just this. I knew it was time to tighten the belt and step up...like they did. I just had to do it a little farther from home.”

Ben had rested his head on George’s shoulder, watching intently as he added the sweet peas to the pan.

“I get it. My comfort foods aren't as meaningful, I guess, but I get it. There's something wholesome about it. Like taking a few minutes to remember when the world wasn't as complicated. Where you could just sit and eat, and enjoy life as it was.”

George smiled, eyeing the wrapped up grilled cheese on the counter. “It doesn't have to have a story to be meaningful, Benjamin. It just has to taste good. I think you did a fine job on that sandwich.”

Ben laughed, his cheek rubbing against the silk of George’s pjs. His eyes didn't leave the pan. “It smells amazing, George.”

George finished up the peas, putting them into a tiny soup container. He headed over to one of the large sub zeroes, opening it. “What’re you drinking?” George asked, grabbing a bottle of sweet tea for himself.

“Chocolate milk”

George tucked Ben’s drink away, searching the fridge for one more thing when a noise came from outside one of the kitchen exits. He stood upright, frozen like a deer in headlights as he strained his ears to listen.

“George, what--”

George put a finger to his lips, trying to pinpoint the sound. Was it---yes, yes it was. This little adventure was over.

“That’s Aberdeen, _shit_. Ben, grab your stuff and let’s go” he said hurriedly, shoving a few more items into his arms before bolting towards the door.

Ben scooped up the peas and sandwich and ran after him, a little squeal escaping him. “George! I thought you said we could be here”

“ _Could_ and _should_ are two very different words, Benjamin!” George cried, jamming the elevator button.

From beyond the closed kitchen doors, George could make out the slight frame of Aberdeen storming into the kitchen. “ _George! We spoke about this. Those peas are for everyone!”_

The elevator doors opened and George ushered Ben inside, frantically pressing the button to their floor.

“How many times have you snuck in here?!”

“I have some priors. I always clean up--”

Ben laughed as the elevator descended just before Aberdeen made her way out of the kitchen.

“Sorry! I’m just hungry!” George apologized through the bars.

“ _George Washington, why I---”_

Her voice faded quickly as they put a few floors between them.

George blushed, “That was close…” His heart was pounding. Ben was grinning, breathing heavily from their sprint.

“Did you grab a banana?”

“Aw, _shit_ ”

More shared laughter between them as George picked up one of the items he pilfered.

“I got the next best thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Chocolate pudding.”

“ _Not even close_ ”  
\---  
They made short work of their meal, sitting cross legged on the bed while recovering from their near miss with Aberdeen. Ben opened his pudding, licking the inside of the foil in a way that caught George’s attention.

“So I noticed something.” He said, finishing off the lid. George let out a little ‘ _hm_?’, though his mind threatened to wander off at the flash of that little pink tongue. “When Aberdeen came in, she ran straight for the freezer. Why?”

George stirred his pudding, “You have to promise not to laugh.” His heart swelled as Ben silently flashed the “ _Scout’s Honor”_ sign.

“Last August I got it in my head that the soft serve machine should have strawberry ice cream instead of chocolate/vanilla swirl. So...I snuck in and replaced the swirl with the stuff for strawberry. I thought it would be a nice surprise, but instead I broke it. And it made a mess at lunch.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “That was _you_?!” He gasped, almost choking on his pudding. “We all thought it was Alex! They were calling it the tubby custard disaster. I got coated head to toe in that stuff.”

George tried not to blush too deeply at the thought of Ben splattered in half melted ice cream. _What a sight I missed_.

“I always thought they came down on Alex for it.”

George swatted away the notion. “No, no I owned up to it. _Quietly_ , but I did it. Out of all the things I let Alex take the blame for, that wasn't one of them.”

Ben’s mischievous smile had returned. “Oh? And what did you let him take one for?”

The night was a little fuzzy, but George remembered the incident with perfect clarity. “Last Christmas I got drunk and knocked over the big Christmas tree while trying to leave the party with Martha.” He said, watching Ben cover his mouth in awe.

“I must have kicked the stand. All I remember is that the thing came down with such a crash, and my first instinct was to whirl around and yell ‘ _ALEX_ ’. Martha joined me, though she knew I was a great klutz. We all set the tree back up, but Alex still wasn't sure if he was the one to knock it over. He was very drunk.”

The story was funny, but something about remembering Martha made his stomach flip. It was their last Christmas together, and they spent it drunkenly picking up shards of ornaments off the ground.

Ben moved close to him on the bed. “May I ask? When did she...you know..” George felt Ben’s hand on his knee, stroking it softly with his thumb.

“January 3rd. Not much longer now.” He should feel sad. He was sad, but the memory didn't bring him to tears. It just felt bittersweet. Especially tonight, while out with Ben. Having that head on his shoulder wasn't too far off from the faint memory of Martha’s arms around his waist while he cooked. They were both so small.

“I got one last Christmas with her, that's more than most… It’s going to be a little hard these next few weeks.”

Ben’s hand traveled up to his thigh as he came closer. “You won't be alone, George. I can be here anytime” George smiled weakly. The sentiment was there, but he knew more important things would come up for Ben. He stared down at his hands.

“That's nice of you, but your friends will be graduating. I can't keep you from them. It's rude.”

“I’ll be with them for a little while, yeah. But I really like being with you, George. I won't let you be alone. If you’ll have me...I can be here every night.”

Something about the way Ben said that last line set George’s lungs on fire. All those dirty, depraved thoughts he had pushed away came hurtling back. He’d have Ben every which way if he could. Ben’s hand started to feel like a hot brand on his thigh.

Looking up, he saw those deep eyes-- _close_. When did he get so _close_? Their noses were practically touching. That buried sense of longing settled in his groin, starting to cause an ache George couldn't deal with right now. It was intoxicating. He was losing control of himself, and fast.

George’s hands moved against his will, and he brushed his thumb over that soft, pouty lower lip. His eyes fluttered, and George felt the slightest touch of Ben’s tongue as it darted out to wet his lips.

‘ _What on earth are you doing?! Stop this. STOP THIS.’_

His senses suddenly flooded back to him. The bubble of intimacy had popped and George felt naked and ashamed.

“ _Pudding_.” He stammered. “On your lip...I...I'm sorry.”

Ben pulled back, pressing his fingers to his lips. “ _Oh_ , uh...I should wash up.” He said, a little breathless. George directed him towards the washroom, and put his head in his hands. ‘Oh God, George what did you do?’

They were close. _So so close_. He had never felt a pull like that before. Definitely not in the time they had spent together. _‘He’s just being kind, you idiot. To console you_.’ George thought, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead.

This was embarrassing. He couldn't have done something more sensual to Ben in that moment. They were supposed to be friends. Just friends. How could he live with himself, coming on to the poor boy after talking about _Martha_. _His Martha_. Not even dead a year and he's looking to find someone to rub up against.

George tried to gain composure as Ben exited the washroom, his face still damp. Ben hurried across the room, crouching beside the bed to get a look at George’s downcast face.

“Hey, it's ok. It's ok...I understand. First holidays are rough. You don't have to be ashamed of that.”

George couldn't speak. He wasn’t sure if Ben was forgiving his transgression, or ignoring it. Either way, he felt like a damned fool. Ben reached up to wipe a tear away. His touch was light.

“Let’s get you to sleep. Hm? Come on, move over.”

George lay back and let Ben undo the bed sheets, tucking him beneath a mound of soft warm blankets. His heart fluttered as Ben crawled in beside him, and propped up some pillows.

“You’d stay with me, Benjamin?”

“Of course. I meant what I said. If you need me, I’ll be here every night.”

George smiled, pulling the covers up to his chest. “Thank you, Benjamin.”

Ben reached across George to turn out the light. The scent of jasmine floated by, and George's heart threatened to explode.

"It's my pleasure"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extras for this fic are on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy. I also take prompts and questions.  
> Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know you had a good time!


	7. Nightmares

“ _If you’ll have me...I can be here every night”. George’s heart skipped a beat as Ben’s nose ever so slightly touched his. That blissful wave of desire crashed over him. He needed to touch Ben. /Have/ Ben. His fingers moved impulsively to brush against those pliant lips. This time he could not stop himself._

_George seized Ben, planting a firm kiss on his lips in time to catch a surprised yelp. Ben melted, letting George’s hands roam all over him as he was pushed to the mattress. He was hungry for him. Greedy even._

_Kissing down Ben’s neck proved fruitful, leaving a trail of darkening bruises in his wake. Upon reaching the collar of the thin night shirt, George succumbed to that violent greed, ripping the shirt off with such fervor that Ben cried out. George stood back to admire his work. Bruised, flushed, panting, begging for more-- oh yes, Ben would be in rags by the time he was done._

_“Benjamin, oh you look--”_

_He couldn't bring himself to finish as his hands grazed over the bulge in Ben’s loose pants. He hooked his fingers over the waistband and yanked them down, watching Ben whine and squirm. George stroked him a few times, listening to Ben’s eager moans before wrapping his lips around him._

_“Oh George---”_

_Those slender fingers found their way into his hair, working and pulling at him in an attempt to reciprocate the pleasure. George let out a low growl, feeling Ben quiver beneath him. So good. So so good._

_He could do this every night, just like Ben wanted. He could please him and listen to those wonderful sighs until the sun rose every morning. Maybe even past that. Down in the bowels of the Shatterdome, the only sense of time is the clock. Should the battery run out, he and Ben could be stuck in eternal night. Just the two of them; Ben splayed out, and George with that cock in his mouth, sucking and moaning until they lost themselves completely._

_“Ah!”_

_George’s ears perked up at the sound. Ben had yelped, like many times before, but this one sounded off. It sounded...pained. George removed himself from his work as another strangled cry rang out. Pain. He was in pain._

_“Make it stop!”_

_George flew into a panic, checking Ben over. He hadn't bitten or scraped him too hard, save for the love marks along his neck. But Ben was crying, shaking, and starting to thrash._

_“No! Make it stop!” The words were garbled by hiccups and tears._

_“Benjamin, what's wrong?!” George cried, scrambling to pick Ben up off the bed. “What’s wrong?!”_

_“NO!” Ben screamed the moment George seized him, one arm striking out to land a heavy slap across his face._

“BEN!”

George shot upright, his ears ringing, face wet. Hands shaking with adrenaline, he wiped the wetness from his face. Blood. There was blood on his face, and the searing pain of a slap on his cheekbone. The ringing in his ears was deafening, drowning out even the race of his heartbeat.

“ _My...my god what is this?”_

His senses started to flood back, along with the horrifying realization that the screaming did not end in his dream. Ben was thrashing violently in the bed next to him, trapped in the throes of some unseeable horror.

“Benjamin!”

George reached over, withstanding a few more frantic slaps in order to seize Ben by the shoulders. His eyes were squeezed shut, brow covered in sweat, and George’s had to shake him hard to wake up.

“Benjamin, wake up!”

His eyes flew open, raw terror twisting his face.

“Dead! He’s _dead_! I _killed_ him!”

The shrieking turned to sobbing, a violent heaving wave of it. He was distraught, still shaking and convulsing-- it was only when Ben’s hands ran into his hair, tearing it out, that George found the courage to pull him into his arms.

“Ben, enough! You’ll hurt yourself!”

“I killed him. It's all my fault”

George tightened his embrace, crushing Ben against his chest until the convulsions began to cease. His shirt stuck to his chest, wet with tears.  
George rested his chin on the top of Ben’s head.

“It's ok. It's ok. It was just a bad dream.” Ben whimpered into his shirt, his fists clenched tight on the silk.

“It's all my fault. I’m sorry-- I'm so sorry!”

George shushed him, rocking him back and forth in his arms until the sobbing turned to gentle hiccups. Ben looked up at him, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Your nose---oh god I--- I _hit_ you”

“Nothing a damp rag won't fix. Here, let me clean up---” Ben held fast, preventing George from rising off the bed. “It's ok, it's ok. I'm coming back. Don't you worry.” He felt his gut twist as he left Ben on the bed, curled into himself with his arms around his knees.

George braced himself as he turned on the bathroom light. What a sight he was. The one good jab Ben had landed while he slept had sent a river down his face. George pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘ _Not broken’_. Still, he understood why Ben had been so mortified. A few good scrubs with a washcloth did the trick. A fresh cool compress was prepared for Ben.

The sobs had returned, muffled by the pillow pressed against Ben’s face. George slid gently back into bed, taking him under his arm. “Oh dear, we’ve had a rough night.” George cooed, dabbing the compress at the tear stains on Ben’s cheeks.

Ben didn't protest as George wiped him down. It looked like it soothed him, and with each pass of the cloth Ben relaxed more and more. George chuckled softly as he wiped away at a runny nose.  
“Just a bad dream. You’re alright.” Ben’s sniffling had ceased, and George was greeted by the sight of those shimmering blue eyes as he smoothed the hair away from his sweaty brow.

“There you are” George whispered. He could barely recognize his own voice; so hushed and tender it was barely audible. “There’s Benjamin.”

The clarity had returned to his eyes. He was aware, but still in visible pain. George worked quickly to fill the silence. “What can I do to make this easier? Do you want to read?”

A slow shake of the head. No.

“Tea? Water?” Another no.

“Shall we stay like this?”

Ben paused, but bobbed his head. Yes.

“Would you feel comfortable like this? If I held you?” George was greeted by another nod. It was a clear yes. Looking at Ben melted his heart. If George could wipe away all those nightmares he would. He would suffer them for him, if it meant Ben could rest easy tonight.

“Then we’ll do that.” George said. He lay back on the mattress, feeling Ben crawl under his arm and onto his chest. His fists still gripped onto his pjs for dear life, and George rubbed circles on Ben’s back.

“How do you feel, Benjamin?”

A moment of silence passed as Ben found his voice. It was raw, and cracking--- but he managed to find the words.

“Safe.”

\---

George roused first, his nose feeling a little sore. Grunting, he shifted under the weight pressed against his chest. ‘ _Benjamin_ ’ He was still fast asleep. The temptation to sleep in was strong, but he felt it was better to keep up their normal routine. Ben probably felt bad enough, the gesture would just embarrass him.

He did, however, take a few moments to really feel Ben. To note the way his fingers clutched at his chest, and the steady warm puffs of his breath. A small mewling purr that should have been a snore escaped his lips, filling the silence.

George let a hand run up into the mess of blonde curls, massaging neat circles into the scalp. He chuckled as Ben let out a content hum. ‘ _I guess he slept well_ ’ It was almost a crime to wake him. Heaviness came over his eyelids, and George was lulled into that blissful half sleep he has so sorely missed. His hand did not stop its work, stroking Ben lazily, earning more hums and wispy snores.

‘ _Oh how I’ve missed this’_

The hardest part of sleeping without Martha was the weight. She would curl up under one arm like a cat, and eventually drape her legs over him. When she passed, George stayed awake for days on end. He lay clutching pillows, trying to fill the space she left. But nothing compared to the weight. That soft, heavy feeling of a person next to you.

Ben’s weight was different. He opted to rest his head flush on George’s chest, as if to be rocked to sleep by the sound of his heart. He clutched at him tightly, wrapping his arms and legs around his like a child holds a teddy bear. Every few minutes he would nuzzle deeper and deeper into his chest, filling George with a sense of security he hadn't felt in a long time. It lured him back to sleep; willing him to close his eyes and let his hand go limp in that mess of perfect hair.

“ _George_ ”

George’s eyes fluttered open. ‘ _Is he awake?_ ’ The thought spiked his heart rate. His hand stopped fiddling in his hair. He waited, seeing if Ben stirred.

Minutes ticked by, with only the steady puff of sleepy breaths on his chest. The next time Ben moved to nuzzle closer, he pushed his head against George’s slack hand, as if to urge him to continue. Curious, he rubbed circles behind Ben’s ear. The sweet humming returned, sending butterflies skittering in George’s stomach.

It was innocent enough, and he indulged both of their desires to let the activity continue. Ben’s breath hitched as George ran his fingertips over a spot just behind his ear. ‘ _So you like that?_ ’ He gently scratched the spot, dragging the pads of his fingers back and forth lazily. Ben let out a small whimper. ‘ _Cute_ ’ Even cuter as he brushed up against the shell of his ear, eliciting short uneven breaths. George shushed him gently, letting his fingers dance across the sensitive skin.

“ _Oh_!”

George jolted as Ben snapped awake, ripping his head off of his chest. His cheeks were stained red, and his breath came in heavy pants.

“Benjamin, are you alright? I didn't mean to startle--”

“No! No, you didn't...uh...you didn't startle me.”

A long pause hung between the two. Ben shifted uncomfortably, scooching his body away from George slightly. George felt a pang of guilt for letting him oversleep.

“We’ll be late for duty. I'm sorry, Benjamin, I overslept.”

Ben moved the hair from his eyes, still not making eye contact with him. “It’s fine, really. Can I just wash my face? Then I’ll head out.” George nodded, watching Ben scramble off the bed and into the washroom.

Without Ben the bed felt cold and uncomfortable, and George found it easy to rise. He stretched a few times before Ben reemerged, face scrubbed clean, save for the lingering blush. The downcast eyes and rigid posture worried him.

“Benjamin, is this about your nightmare?”

Ben shifted on his feet, at a loss for words. He pulled down the hem of his nightshirt, wringing it in his fists. George sighed, and patted the bed.

“Come here.”

“I-- I shouldn't. I've taken up so much of your time.”

George frowned, rising to grab ahold of Ben’s wrist. He flushed considerably, but allowed himself to be guided back to the bed.

“Nothing you did scared me, or made me think less of you. I just...know more now. Is that why you were scared of staying over? The nightmares?”

Ben nodded. His expression was clouded with guilt and embarrassment. “I hit you.” He whispered. The gentle throb in George’s nose and cheek flared up, reminding him of the terror on Ben’s face.

“Yes, you did. But look--” George soothed, cupping Ben’s chin and tilting his head up to meet his gaze. “I'm still here. All in one piece.” Ben’s eyes roamed over his face, as if drinking in every fine detail.

“Are you mad?”

“No. Never.”

Ben’s head leaned heavily in his palm, eyes hooded as they met his. Heat crept over his cheeks, and George decided that this was enough for one morning.

“Come now, let's get this day started. A good meal will do wonders. Hopefully Aberdeen allows me into the mess hall.”

Ben smiled, his cheeks pressing into George’s hand.

“If she doesn't, I’d be happy to sneak you some food for lunch.”

“I would love that.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More benwash prompts can be found @grumblebee-trilogy.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know you had a good time :)


	8. Breakfast

George’s nose throbbed, urging him to pinch the tender cartilage and snuff out the discomfort. He had to give it to Ben, even in his sleep he could throw a punch. The steamy morning shower drew more blood, washing away the last remnants that lined his nose. He kept rinsing until the dark clotted smears stopped appearing in his palm.

Showered and shaved, George nimbly buttoned up his uniform, giving himself a once over in the floor length mirror of the bathroom. A little redness on his right cheekbone, left from Ben’s hand coming down on him. Nothing anyone would notice. He pressed his fingers to it, the dull ache churning his stomach. ‘ _Poor_ _Ben_ ’. Flashes of Ben’s terrified screams rang in his ears. No wonder they moved his room away from the other pilots-- those screams would have woken the whole wing.

George’s cheeks felt hot, shouldering some of the embarrassment Ben must have felt. The boy was frightened, and strung out trying to cope. He thought back to the deep set bags under those blue eyes, on the first night Ben visited. He must have been up for _days_. George shook the notion out of his head, not wanting to relive his own sleepless nights. Instead he grabbed his bag, and headed up towards mess hall, hoping a good meal will settled his uneasy stomach.  
\---  
It may seem a bit arrogant, but George didn't go to mess hall. He was the General. He had assistants who would take his order and bring something down. In fact, he hadn't actually eaten a meal there in years. Mess hall was a place he ghosted through, grabbing some coffee or a snack before quickly retreating to his office.

He hadn't noticed how isolating it was until Martha died. The two of them would order up, chatting jovially, enjoying the privacy of his office. That office felt like a cell, now. His meals were brought to him, with a little “ _yes, sir_ ” or “ _no, sir_ ”, and then all company vacated the premises. The first few meals he took alone, he cried.

Still, he couldn't manage to bring himself to mess hall. It was strange, and cliquish. The pilots all banded together, but he was no longer a pilot. Engineers and crew mingled openly, yet he knew none of them. His rank singled him out, and no interaction felt natural to him. It was all professional-- courteous and cold.

George pushed open the swinging door and was immersed in the deafening sound of a crowd. Hundreds of crew members, huddled together in the slightly chilly hanger, all eating heartily. Glancing around, George could see that the line at each station stretched endlessly. Another pang of guilt added to the discomfort in his stomach. He remembered why he hated coming here--- _special privileges_. The cooks would insist he skip the line and take a plate, which rubbed George the wrong way. It was either that or wait 20 minutes on line, where George would feel even more out of place amongst the rowdy crew.

‘ _I need to get out of here’_

George didn't even know _why_ he came here, but as he went to grab a cup of coffee, his eyes caught sight of a very good reason.

‘ _Benjamin_ ’

He was far--four or five long communal tables away, but George could spot him anywhere. That radiance set Ben apart from anyone in this hall. Ben was all cleaned up; hair neatly combed and parted, face newly shaved--- though George missed the sight of his stubble. He looked _different_. Surrounded by other pilots, Ben was smiling and laughing. He just _belonged_ there. George felt a little swell of pride, realizing he was able to keep his own with a social butterfly. He was never especially good at entertaining, clipping his conversations short. But _Ben_? He looked so good doing it.

George poured some cream into his coffee, reaching for a stirrer when another pilot joined the table. He was stout and hairy, with a wild beard that immediately tipped George off: Caleb Brewster. ‘ _Ben’s copilot’_ .Outside of the handwritten letter, and some courtesy meetings, George barely knew the man-- with the exception of some stories he was told by Ben.

Caleb glided over, tray filled to the brim with goods, scooching next to Ben on the bench. George saw Ben’s face light up, exchanging a few words. Over the roar of the crowd their conversation was lost, and George watched as if they were in a silent film.

Caleb shoveled some of his food onto Ben’s bare plate, an act that George saw as “ _A bagel isn't enough, please eat more”_. Ben laughed, and gnawed at some bacon. He watched as Caleb  motioned towards his mouth, signaling Ben “ _You’ve got a little something_ ”. Ben moved to press his fingers to it, but was stopped...by Caleb’s lips.

‘ _Oh no…’_

George’s heart wrenched as he watched Caleb place a sweet kiss on Ben’s lips, as if to taste the stain away. Ben smiled, hand traveling to Caleb’s shoulder. They hugged quickly, breaking their kiss to laugh and eat again. George’s face was on fire, his stomach in knots.

‘ _I've been an idiot. A great big idiot_ ’.

He closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.  
He could not do this here. He needed to leave. The longer he stayed, the more eyes he felt upon him. He didn't _belong_ here, Ben did.

He snapped the lid on his coffee and took quick strides out of the hall. How could he be so stupid? To think _Ben_ of all people would be interested in someone like him. George wiped away at the tears threatening to spill. He felt like a joke. Cuddling Ben, wishing for more. Meanwhile Ben has his own life, his own lover. Someone he shares everything with.

‘ _Everything, oh God.’_

It was likely Ben told Caleb about sleeping next to him. That Caleb was ok with Ben spending the night with him because, well, it's _him_. _George_. Twenty years older, a lumbering idiot, with a decent sized mattress. Caleb knew Ben would never fall for him. He felt so embarrassed for even letting this happen. For opening up and letting this boy be his _everything_. His whole day revolved around Ben’s visit. He clung to him.

Ben must have pitied him. In George’s attempt to help heal Ben’s situation, he revealed how desperately lonely he was. And Ben, _sweet Ben_ , was being merciful. The good and the golden friend.

‘ _He could never like me’_

George fumbled into his office, his assistants going about their usual task of taking his meal order. He sat quietly at his desk, keeping it all together until his breakfast arrived. As usual, it came with a few “ _yes, sirs”_ “ _no, sirs”_ , along with a packet of new tasks for the day. Then, right on time, they vacated his office.

George felt the silence crushing him. The smell of food nauseating. The lights threatened to blind him. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, and George finally broke down, putting his head in his hands--the sore cheekbone flaring up again. He cried out for the one person he had left.

“My god, Martha, what have I done?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More benwash stuff can be found on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know you had fun :)


	9. Are you ill?

He didn't eat that morning, or afternoon. He didn't return phone calls, or check his inbox. He just...stopped.

Stopped everything.

George had turned the lights down in his office, preferring to stay submerged in near darkness. If his assistants entered, he responded in short clipped responses: “ _yes_ ”, “ _no”, “tomorrow”, “sure”, “I’m fine”_

That one was the hardest to spit out. He certainly was not fine. He was _humiliated_. He slipped and fell into something he knew was too good to be true. He let himself believe it was true, and all it got him was a searing slap to the face, and a wound in his foolish pride.

‘ _He’d never like you like that…’_

George cringed as someone entered his office. They came in on light feet, surveying the room briefly before speaking.

“Are you ill, George?”

He raised his head out of his hands to meet his visitor. ‘ _Just Andre_ ’. Andre was perceptive, and George knew it wouldn't take long for him to pick him apart. Might as well make this brief.

“Yes, actually. I've been suffering migraines”

Andre tutted, inviting himself to take a seat. George hoped his eyes weren't still bloodshot. Even in the dimness of his office, he must remain in control.

“Caffeine problems?”

“Hardly drink it anymore.”

Andre strummed his long fingers on the wings of the chair. “Probably all those late nights you’ve been pulling, then.” George balked, opening his mouth to deny the claim. Andre lifted a hand to silence him. “Don't do this, George. We share a _wall_ for godsake. I heard the screaming last night. You've been trying to counsel Tallmadge.”

George closed his mouth, waiting see if Andre insinuated their meetings were more than therapeutic.

“Don't waste your time on this, George. The boy’s a nutcase. I've seen his psych evals, and I don't think he should continue the program. It's been weeks with no signs of recovery. He's burnt out. Putting him in a jaeger jeopardizes all of our lives.”

Hot rage surged through him, but George clenched his teeth and collected himself. “If you're speaking of the evaluation administered by Lee, it is void. The man _lost_ his practice for godsake, he was an amateur. Tallmadge’s file was rendered null.”

Andre shook his head. “He is _unstable_. They keep him in a separate wing because of those bloody night terrors. Don't tell me you didn't notice them last night.”

George swallowed thickly. He must tread lightly through this subject. It's a given that Ben was asleep in his room, and suffered nightmares; but George could not suffer another humiliation. He could not have Andre circulate the insinuation that Benjamin did _more_ than sleep in his bed.

“It was noted, but I digress. Tallmadge has passed his physical. His jaeger is coming in from Greenland by month’s end. What would you have me do? Discharge him?”

“Yes! That's _exactly_ what you should be doing! The boy is a liability. If he breaks down in the suit, Jesus Christ, they could defund the whole program.”

“And what of Caleb Brewster, hm? He and Tallmadge are _close_ …” the word lodged in George’s throat, and he struggled to recover. “They have the _highest_ drift compatibility on record. I cannot dismiss that. We will be wasting two good pilots.”

Andre threw up his hands in frustration. “Brewster isn't the problem here. Widowed pilots find new partners. It's not uncommon, not that you would---”  
He stopped short, realizing the dangerous waters he was treading. George was having none of it.

“ _Finish, John.”_

“Not that you would know. You gave up after Martha.” Andre said, his normally cool collected voice wavering. George pressed a hand to his temple.

“I’ll say this once, John. _Once_. You come in here and disrespect my wife, claim I gave up on redrifting--That we _wasted_ a pilot--And in the same breath you want me to _dismiss_ Tallmadge? Clearly, your head is not on your shoulders. Benjamin Tallmadge _stays_ in the program. He _will_ be in a jaeger by New Years. Unless you can come up with valid, _recent_ , medical proof otherwise, I suggest you keep your mouth _shut_ ”

Andre huffed, pursing his lips before rising from the chair. “I understand you feel guilty about Martha, George, I really do. But this boy is _damaged_ \-- irreparably, even. He is not Alex. He is not going to get better. Don't let me see you go through this a _third_ time, when we find him hanging in his bunk.”

George’s teeth threatened to shatter under the immense pressure he placed on his clenched jaw.

“ _Thank you,_ John. As always, I appreciate your _professional opinion._ ”

Andre shook his head, a look of disappointment written all over his face. He parted without another word.

\---  
George couldn't handle the office anymore. His encounter with Andre boiled his blood, and the longer he sat in that dark hellhole the more his jaw ached from tension. He gathered his things, and rushed out of the office--startling one of the secretaries.

“Sir! Are you alright?”

George shook his head. “I'm ill. Leave any messages on my desk, I’ll just...handle it later.”

“Yes sir, feel better.”

The elevator couldn't come fast enough. There were too many people here. The air felt stale and uncomfortably hot. He figured the best solution would be to retire to his room, try to calm down, and catch up on work there.

He pressed the button for his floor, his prayers answered as he was gifted an unaccompanied ride down to the bunks. With a sharp rattle the gates were cleared, and the maze of corridors became the home stretch.

George was a few turns away from his room when he heard it.

“I don't know...it seems awfully fast. Your buddies in Greenland said for sure it would arrive by New Years?”

‘ _Benjamin_ ’. Cold panic froze him in place. He couldn't run into Ben now. Not like this. George lingered in the corridor, listening intently for the direction of their footsteps.

“Benny, I’m _tellin_ ’ ya, it's true! Seta Five is on its way. Aren't you excited?”

“Well, yeah, but…still. I don't think I'm ready.”

George could hear Caleb laugh. “Benny, it's been three months, and your physical was fantastic! Don't you think it's time to get in the fucking robot, Shinji?”

A playful slap rang out. “Fuck you, Brewster” Ben laughed.

“I'd like that very much. It's been a while.”

George felt sick. He didn't want to hear this. Then again, if he crossed the juncture they'd know he was here. The sultry tone of Caleb’s voice put his heart in a vice. There were more noises, a little hard to make out from behind the wall: staggered breathing, clothes rustling, kissing? It all sounded frantic. George tried to will away the mental image of Ben pressed up against the wall, being kissed and fondled not twenty feet from him.

“Caleb, Caleb, wait-- I _can't_ ” his voice was thready, and hushed. “I can't do this.”

“Woah, hey yeah ok. I'm sorry, Benny, I didn't mean to. You're just getting back to your normal self. I'm not rushing ya.”

The moment of awkward silence that followed made George afraid to breathe. Ben’s voice returned, no longer strong and confident, but the soft tearful one he knew so well.

“Caleb...I don't know what I want. I want this to be over, and be normal, but things are...different. I'm...I’m not the same and it sucks.”

Ben’s voice was cracking, and George had to resist the urge to swoop in and soothe him. The wall pressed to George’s back was torture; being able to hear Ben’s pain and not lay a hand on him for comfort. He felt so far away.

“You don't have to explain to me, ok? You're my best pal. C’mon, let’s get you some food. I still got lots to tell ya about Seta Five”

George held his breath, anticipating their footsteps. Thankfully, they were headed towards another elevator. Once the reverberating sound of boots turned a corner, he dashed for his room, slipping inside as quiet as a mouse.

‘ _I’m too old for this…’_

Sneaking around, eavesdropping, heartache. It was all the unpleasantries of youth all over again. George even got to relive the needy masturbation sessions, with a mindful of dirty fantasies and time on his hands. He _hated_ it. He missed feeling part of something bigger.

George paid no mind to the state of his bed, he just collapsed onto it with an undignified thud. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring the pattern of the quilt. ‘ _My Martha…_ ’ It felt like so long ago. The two of them in their home in Virginia; George making dinner, Martha sitting on the couch stitching up scraps of cloth into the most beautiful pattern he’d ever seen. He felt blessed to sleep under it with her. Now he feels cursed. He touches himself to the thought of other men beneath it. He invites people in, and tries to erase the pain. By the time George feels the quilt beneath his cheek growing damp with tears, he’s unsure of who he is mourning… Martha or Ben.

This day had taken everything from him. It bled out all the love and warmth he had worked so hard to preserve. It became harder to move, and George accepted it. He wouldn't move. He didn't care. He just wanted to sleep and let the world pass by without him. As his eyelids slid shut, George let out a sigh of relief. Sleep would be his only constant.  
\----

_It was the light that did it. Sunlight that caught his hair, and made it glow like warm honey. It took George’s breath away. Benjamin Tallmadge, dressed in light summer slacks, a pressed white shirt with rolled up sleeves, sitting idly in the garden. His little cafe table held only a book, which he flitted through when he wasn't admiring the flora. One hand carded through his hair, catching the light so it shimmered like spun gold. It was angelic...too good to be true._

_George strolled through the garden, giving Ben wide berth. He wanted to talk to him. To tell him he was beautiful and loved and deserved the world. He shifted awkwardly, kicking a rock in such a way that it caught Ben’s attention._

_“George! Why so far? Come here.”_

_That smile; George couldn't say no to that smile. He scrambled to meet Ben, standing over him in his seat. There was only one seat at this table. George didn't seem to care, the cool clarity of Ben’s eyes capturing his full attention. All those warm feelings,those beautiful sentiments and thoughts, came bubbling up. Ben was smiling, and it was so beautiful. He could not keep his feelings to himself--- he needed to tell Ben everything. George wrung his hands nervously._

_“Benjamin, I know we’re friends but… I feel something much more when I’m with you. Our time together is special, and, well...what I'm trying to say is….”_

_George tried to fumble through, but trailed off, noticing Ben’s eyes dropping down his body. They landed low, and Ben placed a hand over his mouth in disbelief._

_“Ben…?”_

_George looked down to meet his gaze, horrified. Red hot shame burned his cheeks. Naked. No, no he can't be naked._

_“My clothes--”_

_Ben laughed, not bothering to hide it. It tore through George, even as he scrambled to cover himself. It was unlike anything he’d heard from Ben. Cruel ringing laughter; laughter that told George “I can't believe you thought I'd like you.”  
It brought hot tears to his eyes._

_“Benjamin, please--”_

_Those words were lost amongst the laughing. It felt as if the garden were falling away. Darkness creeping in until it was just George, naked, and the sound of rejection ringing through the void---_

“George! George, please wake up!”

George bolted upright, covered in sweat. Through the tears in his eyes he could make out Ben’s face, twisted with worry. His hands flew to his legs, checking to see if in fact he was fully dressed. His mind was a jumble of words, and panic.

“No, no... _laughing. Ben, please_ ”

Ben pulled him into a hug, mimicking the way George had squeezed him the night before. “Calm down, calm down. They told me you were _sick_. I came down here and heard you screaming in your sleep, I just let myself in--- George, why didn't you tell me you were sick?”

Pressed against Ben’s chest he could hear the quickness of his heart. George cried into that chest, still only able to get out a few words. “ _Please..laughing...Ben don't…”_

Ben listened patiently to the tearful sobbing before shushing him. “Oh, George. No one is laughing. It's just us.”

“ _Ben, please…”_

“I know. This stays between us, always. I would never laugh at you.”

Ben’s hands worked through his hair, trying to massage the panic from him. George was a hiccuping mess. He so desperately wished he could forget. He wanted to believe everything _this_ Benjamin said, and enjoy his embrace. But the _laughing_. It wouldn't stop. Even now it rang on his ears and made him feel bare and exposed.

“Ben, it won't stop.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More benwash can be found on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know you had fun :)


	10. Fever Dreams

George had stopped counting the seconds he spent pressed against Ben’s chest. He felt slimy, covered in a thick layer of sweat, guilt and sadness that made his skin crawl. The hiccuping sobs had subsided, leaving only hot ragged breaths against Ben’s shirt.

“George…”

He felt awful. Physically wrung out and drained. It ached. His head throbbed, joints creaked, stomach churning like a storm. Everything tasted of bile and sweat.

“George, I think you're burning up.”

The statement almost made him vomit. A new low for him, fever induced by a mental breakdown. The depression weight and insomnia hadn't been enough, apparently.

Ben peeled George off his chest, cupping his face in his hands. George let his head lean into those palms. Thumbs brushed tenderly against his damp cheeks. For all the mess he must have looked, Ben didn't seem to care.

“Hold still, let me check…”

_Soft lips…_

George’s breath caught in his chest as Ben pressed his lips to his forehead. His mind emptied, focusing only on the warm kiss. Everything about Ben was warm; his lips, his hands, the way he sighed into George’s forehead softly.

‘ _My god, Caleb Brewster is a lucky man’_

“Wh-what?”

The lips retreated from his forehead, and George opened his eyes to see Ben staring quizzically back at him.

“Benjamin?”

“What about Caleb?”

George flushed, though not with fever. He had said it out loud. ‘ _Damn fool, look what you've done_ ’. He worked quickly to remedy the situation.

“He’s lucky...to have been friends with you for so long. You've been so kind to me, Benjamin, and we haven't even known each other that long.”

Ben blushed. “Oh, oh ok. It just...I don't know. It sounded like you thought me and Caleb were...together.” George felt the hands still cupping his face tremble a bit. He swallowed thickly.

“That's not...something you should be ashamed to tell me, Benjamin. It's _ok_ if you're--”

“I’m not! Well, I mean...I _am_ , but not with him.”

Ben looked flustered. George cursed himself for cornering him like this. Why did he let that slip--scratch that-- why did he even think? He never fucking thinks, and the one time he does it shoots out of him like a cannon. Ben cleared his throat.

“I should have told you earlier, I’m sorry. I mean, you let me sleep over, and I know some people get...uncomfortable...when they find out I'm…”

George quickly hooked his hands around Ben’s wrists, squeezing them firmly.

“No, no don't you _ever_ apologize for that.” George said, the words falling out of him uncontrollably. The filter between his mind and his tongue had been ripped out, leaving nothing but feverish pleas to pour through.

“You start apologizing, and it lets people think there's something to be sorry for. I've done enough of it that it makes me _sick_ , Benjamin, don't you do it too.”

A look crossed Ben’s face, slow careful realization.  
“George, are _you_..”

“ _Bi_. I'm bi...Ben…and I’m really, really tired”

Ben laughed, shaking George off his wrists to help him back down into the pillows. “Ok, you're delirious. Let's get you fixed up, and then if you still want to talk about, _uh_ , well let's just get you cleaned up.”

George’s head was swimming, the room starting to spin just a little bit. He felt Ben’s hands push the jacket from his shoulders, and pull it out from under him.

“You're soaked through. Can you point where you keep your sweats?”

His whole body felt weighed down, and it took a great amount of effort to lift a finger in the direction of the cabinet. George spied a large wet imprint on Ben’s shirt from where he was resting.

“Change out of that, Ben...grab one of my old shirts.”

Ben glanced down at his sullied top, pulling it to observe the stain. “Yeah ok. Thanks” He opened up a drawer, setting out some clean clothes for George, before pulling out an old t-shirt. A faint smile crossed George’s lips. That was his favorite one, too; deep maroon, soft, fit like a glove. Though on Ben it would be huge.

He watched in silent awe as Ben wriggled out of his stained shirt. There was _muscle_ under those baggy pajama tops he always wore. He was lithe, and smooth,and those perky pink nipples drove George insane. He wanted to nip one with his teeth. Rake his hands down that chest as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. George had to remind himself that the silver lining of Ben hiding that body beneath his enormous shirt was that the shirt would soon smell like him.

Ben turned his attention to George, catching him staring. “Was this shirt ok to use? I just took whatever.”

“It's perfect.”

Ben returned to the bedside, putting the clothes down next to him. “You probably caught this while sweating in this uniform.” He muttered. Nimble fingers worked the knot to his tie, pulling it loose before starting to undo the buttons.

George felt a twinge of panic, the cruel laughter from his nightmares not quite out of his mind. He wanted Ben to care for him, but he was simultaneously afraid of being laid bare. No one had seen him undressed since Martha. Even more worrisome, Martha was the only person to see him naked in 20 years. He was Ben’s age the last time he was tom catting around-- and he was perkier then, too.

“Benjamin…”

Ben looked up, his hands paused at the shirt buttons near his navel. “Do you want privacy? Can you manage this alone?” George had managed a lot of things alone. He didn't want to have to do it alone anymore. He shook his head, finding a very small voice to respond with.

“Please don't laugh at me.”

A hurt look crossed Ben, but he quickly understood. “You're feeling sick, George. I wouldn't help just to be _mean_. You're my friend...I _care_ about you. It's ok to feel shy. I promise you, I won't laugh.”

George nodded, signaling Ben could continue. His shirt was peeled off, as was the almost translucent undershirt. Ben’s expression was content, offering his hand a quick squeeze of support.

“See? This isn't so bad.”

George took deep breaths. Bare chested, fine, but Ben still had to remove his pants. He fidgeted impatiently, prompting Ben to shush him.

“Hey, George...tell me if this is too much. We can just put on the clean shirt, and get you into bed.”

“No...please. I'm just...I'm overthinking, Benjamin. About my nightmare.”

Ben let out a hum, undoing the belt buckle. “Let me guess, naked nightmare?” George blushed. “It's not uncommon. We have been working on your public speaking, and that's usually a major cause of anxiety. I've had a few myself.”

Fingers looped around the loosened waistband of his slacks, pulling them down. George bit the inside of his cheek. “ _Oh_?” That was all he could manage to say. Ben nodded, looking up at him, and not the near naked lower half of his body.

“Yeah, they come around whenever something big is happening. I've done them all: naked at college, naked before an exam, naked for first drop. It digs up all your deepest issues and puts them on display. It's never pleasant.”

George wiggled his feet to help kick the bunched up trousers by his legs. Ben was respectful, not glancing down for more than a half second before returning eye contact. His story made George feel at ease. Ben reached for the clean lounge pants.

“Have you had one recently, Benjamin?”

Ben shook his head. “No, I'm afraid _other_ nightmares have taken top priority. Alex...and what not. But they’ll probably come back once Seta Five arrives.” His face was downcast, and George struggled to prop himself up to get a better look.

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes.”

George sighed. “So am I.” Ben lifted his head, a little surprised. “I'm terrified of moving on...with this war, with _Martha_... _Alex_. I might just be stuck. But _you_?” His eyes roamed over Ben, admiring those whimsical doe eyes.

“Benjamin, you're _strong_. Stronger than anyone I've ever met. It takes incredible courage to even consider stepping back into a jaeger. It takes even greater courage to make peace with those you've lost. Alex would be so _proud_.”

Tears brimmed in Ben’s eyes, and he quickly dabbed at them with the back of his hand. “I'm _scared_ , George. I'm scared I’m going to kill us all.”  
George willed himself up, grasping Ben’s shoulders firmly for support.

“Now, this may be because I’m feverish--and half naked-- but listen to me, Benjamin. There is not one pilot here who isn't scared. You have every right to be. But you are not alone.

You have Caleb in the harness. You have Andre and Shippen, supporting you over the mic. Your friends, who will soon be right beside you. You have _me_ , every step of the way. I promise.”

George’s arms trembled as he tried to keep upright, and Ben pushed him back down into the mattress. His eyes were dewy, but a soft smile graced his lips.

“ _Thank you_ ” Ben whispered, hovering close to his face, George’s hands still pulling him down towards him. He was so close, George could reach up and brush his lips. He _wanted_ it. But Ben pulled away, unfolding the new pair of pants.

“I’m going to grab a washcloth, and then we’ll tuck you in. Have you eaten?”

“No”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More benwash can be found on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know you had fun :)


	11. Physical Erosion

George had never been happier. Fever wrought, sure, but absolutely blissful. Entrusting himself to Ben’s care, the night slipped by almost too quickly, leaving him with only faint impressions of his time in Ben’s care.

Chicken soup, placed before him in a big bowl. A little chuckle from Ben, “ _I know you're sick of it, but the soup will help”_. He ate it without complaint.

Ben’s slender fingers as the tore open a packet of tea, whilst George mumbled incoherently. “ _Thank you. I can do it, please, Ben…_.” His protests were shushed, and returned with gentle sighs. “ _It's fine, George. Let me take care of you”_

The press of Ben’s lips on his brow, each time lingering just a fraction longer than the last, until George was positively drowning in sweet faux kisses. “ _What’s this smile about?_ ” George let his head loll onto Ben’s shoulder, too content to acknowledge the question, or the lovestruck smile on his face.

His last memory was soft and faded, as his consciousness slowly bled from him and into a deep sleep. He could feel Ben’s arms around him, hands stroking his hair. Warm breath tickling his ear. The hushed whispers Ben cooed became blurred, as George’s dreams took over this waking paradise. His eyes slid close, and in the darkness he could no longer determine which Ben was real; the one whispering “ _I want to take care of you_ ” or the one panting _“I want you”._

\----------------------------------------------  
Things had been easier since that night. A new wave of reassurance had picked George up out of his rut, and carried him forward. He and Ben had been close now for almost three weeks, and Christmas was right around the corner. Ben had spent the last few nights eagerly telling him about all his friends from Setauket. If the stories were true, George was in store for a lively bunch of pilots.

It felt _good_. Not just in a fuzzy, Yuletide way. It was a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stagnant place. This was so important to Ben. George could practically feel him buzz with excitement as each night ticked away. He couldn't help but smile as Ben described attending his friend Anna’s wedding.

“...tosses the bouquet, thing goes _flying_ , and nails a flower girl in the face.”

Oh he learned all about Anna, and the strong arm that got her into many school yard brawls. Her husband was Selah, a stern but passionate man. The type of man that had to be dragged out to have fun, and was always first to go home. “He hung out with my brother mostly, uh, before he passed away.” George’s heart sank.

“I'm sorry, Benjamin.”

“Nothing we could have done. It was a really bad winter.” Ben brushed off the severity of the incident, but the guilt still lingered. It made sense why Ben was so distraught to find him sick, and alone, in his bunk all those nights ago. George pulled him into a hug for safe measure.

“That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.” He said, feeling Ben return the comforting squeeze.

The physical barrier between them had been eroding. George no longer second or triple guessed himself over small brushes. A hand on the knee wasn't intrusive, but _welcomed_.

Ben initiated most new forms of contact, which George treasured as his newfound badge of trust. Most of Ben’s stories drifted up to him from the head resting in his lap. His fingers coaxed more tales out of him, as well as the tension from Ben’s temples.

Some nights would begin with them sitting across from one another, the book between them, only to end with George propped up against the headboard, legs spread wide to make room for Ben. He would wrap his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Ben’s shoulder to read. George took a few guilty pleasures in this, and knowing that Ben was particularly sensitive behind his ear, growled in such a way that caused him to fumble and drop the book.

“My apologies, Benjamin. I got a little too into it”

This too would be growled, low and close to Ben’s ear, where he could feel him shiver. A heavy flush would stain his cheeks, the heat passing to George, who enjoyed it thoroughly. It would only last a moment, as Ben was quick to compose himself, mumbling a frazzled “ _S’ok_ ” before ploughing through the next few paragraphs with astonishing speed.

But for every tease George slipped in, he was rewarded tenfold. Ben’s casual and carefree demeanor led to many encounters that left George aching. Opting for a movie instead of their book routine, Ben wiggled his way between his legs, trying to get comfortable. George bit down on his lip hard as Ben scooched back just a bit too far, propping himself up on his crotch before sliding back down to the comfortable spot between his legs. _The Sound of Music_ was a little too long that night.

Tonight, the most tempting, George helped Ben assemble little goody bags for his friends’ stocking stuffers-- though George wasn't doing a fantastic job at it. He was too distracted by the lucky candy cane hanging from Ben’s lips, being laved up and down by a deft pink tongue. The stripes from the cane stained Ben’s lips red, and the smell of peppermint filling George with a urge so strong he almost had to excuse himself to the bathroom.

‘ _Dear God, do you have to enjoy it that much?’_ He gawked, breathlessly watching Ben smile coyly around the candy. Apparently he did, soft little sighs escaping him as he worked. “Christmas is my favorite holiday” Ben said off collar, tying off a ribbon. George nodded, fumbling with a handful of peppermints. ‘ _Mine too’_

Ben smiled, a little too sweet and innocent for the acts he was doing to that candy cane. “Is there anything you hope to get this Christmas?” Heat pooled in George’s gut. ‘ _You. Naked, with my fingers in your mouth, showing me exactly what you're doing to that candy cane.’_

“Socks...mostly.”

There was a small huff of laughter, and Ben rolled his eyes. “I don't want to make this about _age_ , but come on... _socks_?”

“They're _practical_. It's hard to find a good pair of socks that keep you warm in this place.” Though George could think of a few other ways he could stay warm in this place. “How about you?”

There was a pause as Ben searched his mind. “I think I'm ok. Is that weird to say? I don't need to wish for anything this year. I've gotten pretty lucky.” His fingers traced the outline of a photo; a group shot of him and his friends as gap-toothed kids from a Christmas long ago. “Them being here will be perfect.”

George set aside the miniature stocking he was so terribly stuffing, taking Ben’s hand in his. He turned it over in his palms, rubbing some warmth into his chilly fingers. “I'm glad. They look like a wonderful bunch. And they make you smile…” Pink tinged Ben’s cheeks as he gazed wistfully back at him. “...that's most important, Benjamin. Put this year behind you. Indulge in the little things that keep you smiling.”

Ben pulled himself close to George, a familiar hand stopping to rest on his thigh. His fingers moved in slow deliberate circles, dropping to the sensitive inner thigh oh so subtly. George mimicked the motion, rubbing his thumb into Ben’s palm. Ben leaned forward, the scent of peppermint thick on his breath.

“Are you sure socks are _all_ you want for Christmas?”

George smiled, leaning forward to brush the tip of Ben’s nose with his own. “ _You caught me…”_ he growled. Ben’s breath hitched ever so slightly. “I need new gloves too.”

“Oh my _GOD_ ” Ben laughed, slapping George playfully across the chest. “Get better tastes!You big dork!” George threw up his hands dramatically.

“But it's _practical_!”

Ben smiled, and scribbled a memo onto a scrap of wrapping paper. “ _Practical...socks_ … Got it. None of that frivolous nonsense.” He smirked, and to George’s dismay, returned is undivided attention to a new candy cane.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More benwash can be found on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy. Come talk about what's going on and ask me stuff.
> 
> Feedback always appreciated! Let me know you had fun :)


	12. Christmas Spirits

The whole room was abuzz, leaving George somewhat out of place. The mess hall had been decked out earlier that month, but now that the party was in full swing the monochrome hanger sparkled with some newer Yuletide magic.

The Shatterdome Christmas tree stood roughly 15 feet tall, and George gazed upon it forlornly, remembering the great crashing sound it made as it hit the concrete last year. The ornaments were plastic this year, thanks to him. He caught his reflection in a polished silver ball, his likeness stretched and wrapped around the sphere. My god that was his party face. It was cold, distant; lonely.   
Martha always used to joke that he never looked like he was having a good time. At least this year it was true.

George knew he’d be enduring this party solo. Ben, as generous with his time as he was, had just been reunited with his friends. It was like a scene from a kitschy holiday classic. Ben and Caleb waited on the helipad, waving their hands, wearing reindeer antlers and ugly sweaters over their regulation jumpers. The helicopter landed, and delivered three new recruits. George recognized each immediately as they exited the craft.

Anna Strong, with long dark hair, and a fire behind her eyes. She was the most excited, throwing herself into Ben and Caleb’s waiting embrace. Selah Strong, a stern man with a slight frame. He slowly exited the helicopter, clapping a hand on Ben’s shoulder before trying to wriggle out of a hug from Caleb. George couldn't say he didn't chuckle at that. And finally Abraham Woodhull, who looked as if he had the worst flight of his life, and was not sharing in his friends high spirits. He accepted a few hugs, spoke briefly about his wife and newborn before dropping the subject entirely.

George did his usual spiel as General. He welcomed them, and wished that they will succeed--in a manner that sounded more like a firm command than a sentiment. “Let us hope you rise to the occasion” he said, gauging each of their expressions as he went. Anna and Selah showed the bright eyed, ambitious fervor he looked for. Abe...not so much. But George quickly glossed over those shortcomings, becoming enrapt with the glowing pride on Ben’s face. This was his _family_. Home just in time for Christmas Eve.

That family was having a reunion across the mess hall, far from where George stood idly by the tree. He had seen only fleeting glimpses of Ben, who was being pulled to and fro by his friends, pilots, and various crew members trying to catch him under the mistletoe. George smiled at the sight, though it wasn't enough the chase the sad little cloud over his head. Those mistletoe chasers still had about as good a chance as he did with Ben. He was radiant, and lively--and George was, well, depressed as all hell. He almost didn't make it to the party out of fear of knocking the tree over with no one left to help him. No Martha, no Alex; George was the lone survivor of that faint Christmas memory.

“George!”

He turned suddenly, caught off guard. “John! And Margaret, yes. How are the two of you?” Andre held out a drink, offering George to take it.

“I’m glad you made it, George. I know this is rough for you. Peggy said this was your favorite.” George lifted the drink to his lips, taking a sip. _Gin_. Actually that was Martha’s favorite. He smiled faintly nonetheless.

“Thank you. Truly”

Peggy placed a hand on George’s arm. “Lots to be excited about, George. New recruits, new jaegers. It's going to be a brand new year. We might even win this thing.” She smiled, pearly teeth and all. It made George a little uncomfortable.

“We just might.”

Andre let out a sigh, and turned towards Peggy. “Dearest, I think it best you check on Townsend. Make sure he doesn't pilfer the bar and go back to his lab.” Peggy rolled her eyes. A valid argument, but she knew she was being asked to leave. She turned and head back into the crowd, her glaring crimson dress soon lost amongst a sea of red and green.

“How are you, George? Sleeping alright?”

George didn't care for his tone. He took a long swig of his drink. “I sleep enough.” Andre watched him with intensity.

“I've talked to Robert Townsend. We need to move our schedule up. Seta Five can't wait for the new year. It's already _here_ and assembled. So I will ask you this once: Is Ben Tallmadge stable? If not, we have new recruits we can shove in there. But I'd rather not put us all at risk on a defective pilot.”

George’s fingers grasped the glass firmly, almost the the point of shattering it. Ben was capable. He was strong and young and ready to fight. A little self doubt wasn't cause for grounding. The insinuation that Ben was _defective_ flared his temper.

“Benjamin Tallmadge is a fine pilot. He will do well”

“ _Fine_ and _stable_ are two very different, very critical, words. I don't think you understand how dire this is, George. If you tell me Tallmadge is ready, he will be on a drop _tomorrow_.”

Panic struck his heart, though he somehow managed to keep it off his face. “Tomorrow? On Christmas?”

“Kaiju don't exactly observe holidays. And yes, we need Seta Five immediately. We have _seven_ jaegers in repair bay, and only one on duty. Seta Five is brand new, and I've expedited its final tune ups. It will drop tomorrow, with or without Tallmadge. Just be warned, if you do keep him back, the PPDC may be inclined to discharge him.”

George was torn. Tomorrow was so sudden. He hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Ben about it since he was ill. While he was definitely doing better, George feared this would cause him stress. Then again, if he declined...he'd be sent home,discharged and ashamed. And there was no one _left_ for him at home. They were all _here_. Ben would be alone on Long Island, out of reach and in danger.

“He’s stable.”

Andre nodded a little dubiously. “If you say so. You're the _boss_ , remember? It's not like you've got _personal_ reasons to cloud your judgement. Speaking of… _Tallmadge_! Come here please.”

Ben had happened to pass through Andre’s line of sight, and was waved over. His cheeks were tinged pink from drink and dance, and his cup was full. “Yes sir, Major Andre”

“I've the pleasure of telling you that Seta Five is ready to go. Due to some mechanical setbacks in repair bay, we’ve been forced to move up your first drop. You and Brewster will be harnessed in tomorrow.”

There was a small pause. The silence between the three of them outweighed the raucous party of hundreds of crew. George felt his heart in his throat as he searched Ben’s face for some sign of distress. To his surprise, Ben smiled sweetly.

“Thank you, sir! It's an honor to step back into a jaeger. I'm terribly sorry you've been put through that hassle on Christmas.”

This seemed to amuse Andre. He laughed jovially, and took a sip of his drink. “You're a good boy, Tallmadge. We expect great things from you. George and I both.”

Ben’s eyes flitted to George, and he could see the faint glimmer of something behind those big blue eyes. Adoration? Longing? It was too quick to tell.   
Soon Ben’s gaze was back on Andre, who had moved on to chatting about Peggy, and how she must be thwarting some grand spirits heist from Townsend.

“It's been a pleasure. I’ll see you harnessed in tomorrow.”

He departed quickly, leaving Ben and George by the tree. George cleared his throat nervously. “How are your friends? Are they lost?” Ben looked around.

“I think they're here. Caleb is taking this down to our bunks. Gift exchange and drinking.” He said, his tone just a little sad. George figured he was trying to tell him their reading wouldn't happen tonight.

“You don't have to feel obligated to see me, Benjamin. I can read alone. Your friends are more important. Celebrate with them.” He watched as Ben ground the toe of his shoe into the floor, looking upset.

“But what about you? Won't you be lonely?”

“Perhaps. But I have a few drinks in me, and a long night’s sleep ahead. I'm certain it won't be that painful.”

Ben looked beautiful. Sad as he was, George couldn't help but admire the way his hair glittered by the light of the tree, eyes reflecting like twinkling stars. So warm and bright, even in this cold damp place. He would miss that warmth tonight. He had indulged long enough, and now was the time to accept that Ben’s presence was a treat. Something cherished on those long nights when he slept in an empty bed. Ben nodded his head, smiling only briefly.

“Merry Christmas, George. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, indeed. Merry Christmas, Benjamin.”  
\----------------------------------------------  
He had retired from the party early, not feeling the atmosphere anymore. It was too jubilant, in a way that made George feel guilty for smiling. This was his first year without Martha. She had missed birthdays, and vacations, all equally painful, but _Christmas_? It was for families. For loved ones. Sitting on his bed, George realized he had no one.

His evening wound down slowly. He put on the old classics, only crying briefly through Rudolph. He made tea, a special one he had picked up while in Hong Kong recently. Green tea and jasmine. He inhaled the scent, the warmth, everything. Even a fleeting cup of tea helped quell the sorrow in the pit of his stomach. There was no need to stress over the caffeine. George knew tonight he wouldn't be sleeping much. Not with the thought of Martha on his mind.

Last Christmas she gave him a kiss, and put him to bed. She stayed up later than him, writing in her journal. It was their routine. George, nestled under the protective shield of her quilt, drifting off to the sounds of pen scratches. She logged every night without fail. George retrieved a small box from under his bed, her journal tucked away inside. He knew it was painful, but every night he read an entry from the corresponding day a year prior.

  
It kept her alive. Her voice, her narrative. Though, as of this past month, it had collected dust beneath his bed as George traded stories with another man.

He had a whole month of Martha to catch up on. Her search for good socks, just like him. She planned to make her own chocolates. The minute day to day observations about George. He hardly recognized the man she described. Tall and confident, with shoulders held back. A warm, rich laugh. One that reminded her of carefree summers under peach trees. This wasn't _him_. Not anymore, at least. Though part of him felt like he never was this man. That Martha’s love for him clouded her vision, creating this golden hued replica. Or maybe he just saw that now, because he sees the shattered pieces of himself in the mirror every day. How could Martha ever see _this man_ in him?

Tears blurred the words as he reached Christmas Eve. The handwriting was sloppy, her pen held loosely in a drunken grip. It read:

_12/24_

_Tonight was magical. Though George has been stressed, and worked to the bone, he arrived early to drop off my gift. Lavender sprigs. He heard me talking about making an herb pouch, to relax after we return from a hard drop. He went through five markets until he found the perfect sprigs of lavender. The whole room smells like swaying fields, purpled and bright. I'd trade the dingy bulbs for that field in a heartbeat._

_He never left my side. Not once. We danced, and drank too much for someone our age. I'm sure he’ll feel it in the morning. Poor thing knocked over the entire Christmas tree as we staggered out of the party. He turned beet red, and blamed it on little Alex. Alex was as far gone as we were, and I think he truly believed he knocked over that tree. As small as he is in comparison to my George, he has a penchant for disaster._

_Gilbert had handed me a list of hopeful academy students, who are ready to join us this spring. That boy searched far and wide. He even scouted out one of our jaeger manufacturers in Greenland. Says he found a duo who could turn this war around. Isn't that something? We’re finally getting somewhere. I highlighted their names, they're to be sent here immediately upon graduation. One of them wrote:_

_“It is my belief that this world is ours to hold. That your proximity to danger does not determine your responsibility to handle it. Our history, our legacy, our humanity relies on the selfless act of sacrifice. That happens in a jaeger.”_

_We need people like this. People who put their hearts and minds into the faux gods we’ve assembled. People not unlike my George in his youth. I’ll be putting a pin in the name Benjamin Tallmadge. This spring I hope to be the first to shake his hand as he steps off the tarmac._

George closed the journal abruptly, tears rolling down his face. It was too painful. All of it. Why hadn’t Martha _told_ him. Or maybe she did, and it drifted past his ears unnoticed, as so many things had done last year. What else had he missed? What other scraps of a life he didn't fully live fell on deaf ears? His Martha always had a keen eye. She knew goodness when she saw it, and hope where there was none. Could she have known? That people like Ben would be the ones picking up the pieces of their life together. Or did she see them walking free, back home in Virginia, with photos of Ben between them as humanity took its next step forward.

A knock rang out from the door. George paused, Martha’s journal still folded in his lap. Maybe tonight he shouldn't answer. Just preserve her memory, drift to sleep. Not answer the door and be still. So very very still.

“George?”

He pulled his knees to his chest. Whose voice was this? Martha? Ben? _Alex_? So thick with death, decay or drink that the sound became a unified chorus. All speak and none speak as he struggles to grasp reality. The journal smells like leather and glue, the tea smells like jasmine. And yet none of it helps him determine who is at the door at this ungodly hour.

“George, are you awake.”

By some miracle he moves, swiftly walking to the door to expose this phantom. He would wretch this door off its hinges and meet thin air, and it would be a relief. It would be a blessing knowing he had lost the last thread of himself. It had almost made it a year. _Almost_. His hand grasped the knob, and swung it open.

“George?”

Ben stood in the doorway, feebly wobbling on his feet. His cheeks were flush, intoxication a little too obvious. In his hands was a small wrapped parcel, which swayed to and fro with him. A soft smile graced his fine features.

“Can I...stay here?”

George melted. He couldn't say no. He would never say no. Ben was...everything. Martha knew it. He knew it. The sight of him wobbling there, drunk on cheer, warmed George’s heart. It also drove him to some instinctual state of nurturing, seeing the very unpleasant morning Ben was sure to endure as a result of this night’s spirits.

“Of course. Come on in”

Ben hiccuped, slumped against the door frame. “Oh man, uh. I'm having problems…” George smiled, and scooped Ben up in his arms, carrying him to the bed. The giggling was incessant. “So strong, so strong” he cooed, marveling up at George.

“Dear Benjamin, what happened? Friends party a little too hard for you?” He said, nestling Ben amongst the pillows. Ben hummed, shimmying under the warm quilt, waiting eagerly for George to join him.

“Oh man, I’m _(hic)_ just a lil blasted. S’no big deal. Everyone was so nice and awesome. Abe has a _baby_ , what's that about? And Selah didn't even drink. He just sat there. But Anna? She _(hic)_ destroyed us. Caleb is throwing up all over the place. I barely made it out with my legs.” He stammered, giggles interrupting his train of thought.

George smiled. This was so cute. He would never do anything, God no, Ben was drunk. But having him here and so loose was amusing. He giggles and all of a sudden that cloud starts to disperse. If he keeps giggling, George could huddle with him under that little umbrella of insobriety.

“My my. Sounds like you had a fun time. I'm glad you're not throwing up in my bed.”

“Give it, like, and hour? Don't hold me to it.”

George snorted. He’d fetch the bucket soon enough. Just after he told Ben about his uneventful evening that is. Ben listened patiently, fidgeting beneath the covers. It made George pause. “Do you need to get up? Bathroom?” Ben shook his head, cheeks turning pink to red.

“S’too _hot_. But I got it” he mumbled, his hands pulling something out from under the covers. He tossed it aside, and George had to look twice. ‘ _His pants’_

“Ben! You should keep those on...it's cold…”

Ben was still wiggling under the covers, and George began to panic. ‘ _Do not try and take off your boxers, I cannot help you’_ Ben disappeared under the blanket, and emerged with his shirt in hand, which was tossed aside with his pants.

“Better.”

George turned red, a little afraid to look under the blanket. Ben curled up at his side. “No it's cool. I'm not, y’know, _naked_. I just can't sleep in the uniform. Oh wow, you have really nice eyes” A laugh escaped George. He was being silly. Ben didn't want him like that. He was young, tipsy, and just trying to cozy up in the big bed before knocking out. George offered his arm, and Ben nuzzled underneath it to rest his head on George’s chest.

“You're so good to me, George. I got you a present.” The tiny parcel had somehow managed to stay wrapped through all of Ben’s rustling. George plucked off the bow, and undid the tape. The fabric beneath the paper was soft and thick, and a wonderful shade of blue.

“Socks, now how on earth did you know?”

“A little elf told me you like practical things and they put in a good word with Santa.”

Without thinking, George placed a light kiss on the top of Ben’s head. It was instinctive. A reflex forgotten from his 20 years with Martha. Ben moaned softly into his chest, a smile pressed against his skin. George savored the light scent of jasmine.

“Merry Christmas, George.” Ben said, with a voice soft and ready for sleep.

“Merry Christmas, Benjamin. This is so lovely. I'm afraid I couldn't slip out to get you anything.”

Ben nuzzled close to George’s chest, the slow puffs of his breath tickling the skin. “S’ok. You already have.”

 

 


	13. Realign

George awoke the next morning to the sound of retching. He bolted up in bed, eyes still heavy with sleep. The bathroom door was ajar, and he could spy the tips of Ben’s toes through the gap.

Ben was knelt down in front of the toilet, confirming his suspicions. The drinks had taken their toll.

“Oh dear, bad morning?” George cooed, his voice soft. Ben gurgled, a strained “ _uh-huh_ ” mingled amongst the heaving. George sighed, and sank to his knees behind him, running a soothing hand across his back. His skin was cool; still in his boxers from the night before, and shivering on the freezing tile of the bathroom. George undid the buttons on his pajama top.

“Here, here.” He draped the top around Ben’s shoulders, watching him shudder underneath the silk. “Anything coming up?” A solemn little shake of the head told him no. “Then let's get you back to bed. I’ll bring the bucket.”

Water, bucket, saltines. George sat patiently, coaxing Ben to put something in his stomach besides the liquor he was trying to heave up.

“I’ll just throw it up.”

“Perhaps. That's why the bucket is here. But it could stick, and you could feel better. That's what we need most right now.”

Ben nodded, but George couldn't help notice the slight expression of fear at the notion of feeling better. It was quick, just a flash across the eyes before Ben accepted the water and crackers. Maybe last night’s binge was a little more than a party.

“Benjamin...how are you feeling?”

“Nauseous.”

“No, about today. About drifting.”

There was a long pause, Ben holding the cracker between his lips, unable to bring himself to either speak nor eat it. Guilt settled in George’s stomach. ‘ _He’s panicking. They're going to send him_ _away_ ’

“I’m scared. It's so sudden, I don't know what's happening. I thought I had another week.”

George sighed. “Andre sprung it on me too. I wouldn't have agreed if we weren't bent over a barrel right now---”

“You... _Ok’d me?_ ”

George fumbled to a stop, unsure of how to follow through. Ben’s face flickered through so many emotions, it was hard to pin one down long enough to respond. He was terrified, hurt, embarrassed, and anxious; all rolling through him like waves on a turbulent sea. Nothing could quell it.

“I...did...but, Benjamin, it's not as ideal as I would have liked.” George contemplated lying, but he couldn't bring himself to it. He couldn't _lie_ to Ben. He needed to know how important it was that he stay, that he jump this hurdle.

“I had the option to remove you from today’s drop, but I refused. The stipulation would be that I was admitting you were _unstable_. Too dangerous to enter a jaeger--which you certainly are _not_. If you were pulled out, the PPDC would have no choice but to discharge you. You would be sent home, Benjamin. I couldn't allow that. Not after seeing you with your friends, all of whom would be here without you. I’m sorry there was no other way to do this.”

George had to look away as the words sank in. He could see it seeping through his eyes; the realization that he was going to be sent away. That his friends made a trip across the globe for nothing. Ben wiped at his face with the back of his hand, trying to rub away his sorry expression. “This is all my fault…”

“No, no, Benjamin, it’s me--”

“Yes it is! I'm not _better_. I passed my exams and I don't feel ready. I'm terrified! I'm going to get them all killed. Don't you see, I can’t do it again.”

It felt as if a knife had been twisted in George’s gut, those words triggering memories he had so diligently repressed. The crying, the breakdown in front of Andre, Alex somehow smooth talking the PPDC into letting him keep his rank, his job, his home. The worst mistakes of his life came from being too scared to step back into a jaeger. He chalked it up to being old; too far gone to bond with anyone besides his dead wife, too feeble to keep up with the new surge of recruits. But Ben was _young_. He had his whole life ahead of him, and it would be lived in disgrace if he was sent home.

“I couldn't do it.” George said, feeling as though he’d been punched in the chest. “I was petrified. I feel ashamed every day, knowing the only reason I’m here is because Alex took pity, and convinced the PPDC I had value. That I wasn't a waste of money, and precious time.”

Ben went to speak, but George raised a hand--he wasn't finished.

“I will _not_ let you leave here thinking you are a waste. Benjamin, you are a _gift_ ; to this program, to your friends, to _me_. If I could keep you here in this bed, safe from all of this, I would. But we need to move forward. I have to let you move forward.”

George got up, retrieving the small leather journal from its forgotten place on the nightstand. Ben’s brow bent on confusion as George skipped towards the last few entries. “What is this?” He whispered.

“A reminder. That this wasn't always the way things were. Read this…”

_It is my belief that this world is ours to hold. That your proximity to danger does not determine your responsibility to handle it. Our history, our legacy, our humanity relies on the selfless act of sacrifice. That happens in a jaeger._

“This...this is mine. This was my application. How? How did you get this quote?”

George ran his fingers over the words, fondly feeling the indentations in the page.

“Martha…you made quite an impression on her. She wanted to be the first to meet you when you arrived. She just...never made it. That was my fault. All my fault. Benjamin, she believed you could turn this thing around. I believe it too.”

He felt embarrassed speaking passionately like this. Openness wasn't something he was used to. But Ben brought out a whole new side of him, tender and gentle. He wanted to scoop Ben up; tell him how precious he was to him. He wanted to stroke his hair and plant kisses all over him, and sigh all those wonderful words to him. He felt safe with him, it felt right with him.

It all came to the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill over against his will.He couldn't do this to Ben. ‘ _Not before a drop. Don't humiliate this poor boy, when he should be uplifted.’_ But Ben, so scared and alone, he needed to tell him. George needed to let him know that this feeling he has is real. His lips moved without his permission.

“Benjamin, I li--”

“I’ll do it”

George halted, thankful the words hadn't fallen out of his mouth a moment sooner. Determination filled Ben’s eyes as he stared down at the page.

“Your wife...she thought I could. And Alex thought _you_ could. We owe it to them to move forward.”

And then he gazed back up at George, blue eyes sparkling with some newfound courage he had never seen before. _This_ was Ben. Broken and beaten, but alive in every sense of the word. Ignitable as a dying ember touched by a passing breeze. So close to being snuffed out, but roaring once again. It threatened to consume him.

“I’m ready.”

George sat in slack jawed awe, lips moving to form something, anything, besides the burning desire to confess how beautiful he looked to him right now.

“You're…” _stunning, beautiful, divine_ \--- “...sure?”

Ben closed the journal, and hugged it close to his chest.

“I’m sure.”  
\----------------------------------------------  
The control room was all abuzz, technicians sprinting to and fro to prepare for the first drift and drop of Seta Five. George arrived promptly, smoothing out his uniform beneath his sweaty palms. As ready as Ben said he was, the pressure was on. Ben was only half dressed when the alarm rang out, signaling that a kaiju had breached. Degas Cordial, their only functioning jaeger, had been deployed. All that was left was for Ben and Caleb to drift.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you're all up to today’s task. Category 3 kaiju, Codename Longtail.” Washington boomed, striding over to the control panel where Andre was working.

“John.”

“George. Is your man ready?”

George faltered a bit, but regained his composure. “He’s suiting up in C Deck. Have Ms. Shippen patch them through as soon as possible.”

Peggy threw a thumbs up from across the room. “Mic system online, sir. Seta Five on standby while pilots are harnessed in.”

The sounds of the cockpit filtered through, Ben and Caleb climbing into their harnesses.

“Moment of truth, Benny boy. You’re gonna wow ‘em”

“Let’s just push through this first one.”

“Not a problem. If you've got any happy memories you want to hold onto, now’s the time, Tallboy”

Andre leaned into the mic. “All components ready. Initiating neural handshake in 3..2..1--”

George held his breath as he watched the screen. Numbers, brain waves, colors flashed on the screen as he witnessed Ben and Caleb’s conciousness meld into one. As of now they were racing through two lifetimes worth of memories. If they were lucky, Ben wouldn't chase the rabbit. He won't get _stuck_.

“General Washington, Tallmadge is faltering.”

George whipped around to Peggy, who was tapping away at her screen. “Faltering _how_ ”

“His vitals are all over the place. He’s starting to panic. If he’s not chasing the rabbit, he’s about to.”

“And what of Brewster?”

“Pushing through, but Tallmadge is holding him back.”

Andre swiveled his chair towards George, his face hardened. “George, we should plug this. Tallmadge is obviously in distress. We’re losing time---”

“Just _give it a minute_.” George growled, his teeth clenched, eyes fixed on the screen. He knew this was temporary. That as scary and real as the memory was, Ben would push it back.

“Levels decreasing. Tallmadge isn't clicking.”

Andre huffed, throwing his hands up. “ _George_! The boy is redlining. Their compatibility dropped from 93% to 35%. He's obviously traumatized. Plug this before someone gets hurt.”

“Major Andre, I did ask for a _minute_ and I will get it.”

“You’ve lost control of this situation. I’m going to plug--- wait, _what's this?_ Peggy, what're you reading?”

Machines starting pinging, brainwaves on the screen picking up and flashing colors rapidly. 

“Vitals stable on Tallmadge! Neural capacity is expanding. Compatibility shooting up. 68%....85%... 93%.... _97_ %. They're stabilized at 97%!”

Murmurs broke out amongst the technicians. George had to suppress the wide smile forming on his lips. “That’s a first.”

Andre checked the data. “This is _definitely_ a first. We’ve never had two pilots reconfigure their compatibility. Here they come now. Welcome back, Seta Five”

Caleb’s voice patched through. “Did we make it?”

George leaned forward into the mic. “Indeed, you did. Seta Five you are sitting pretty at 97%”

Celebration broke out inside the cockpit, Caleb cheering as loud as his lungs would allow. Ben laughing breathlessly. The control room fired off a few rounds of applause, thoroughly impressed with Seta Five’s new stats.

“As proud as I am of you, we have a kaiju to deal with. Seta Five get ready to be deployed.”

“Yes, sir!”

The next half hour was like a dream. Seta Five dropping into the heat of battle, seamlessly falling between Longtail and Degas Cordial. Ben handling every punch thrown at him. Caleb cheering every blow they landed. Longtail was strong, towering just as tall as Seta Five, with a tail that whipped like an armored club. It took the flawless work of two jaegers to kill it--- the final blow being a shove that sent the kaiju headfirst into the exposed whirring blades on Seta Five’s chest.

It was like Ben had never left.

George watched the towering giant with silent admiration, eternally grateful he had the chance to know Ben so closely. To look upon this fight with a more intimate lense than the other technicians. It was humbling.

“Signature lost, kaiju is down. Congratulations to all of you. Bring it on home.”  
\----------------------------------------------

The maiden voyage of a new jaeger was always cause for celebration, but that, combined with Christmas and the return of Ben Tallmadge, threw the Shatterdome into a frenzy.

George nearly missed being hit by the champagne cork as Peggy showered the two entering the room. Sweet bubbly wine doused Ben, with Caleb frantically trying to catch the spray in his mouth like a dog with a hose. Disappointed with his catch, Caleb turned on champagne soaked Ben, licking him from neck to cheek-- the crowd whistling loudly.

Anna was next on the scene, hugging the two before a few words exchanged sent her into a faux rage-- fists pounding Caleb on the chest. Unsurprisingly, Abe and Selah hung back in the crowd along with the rest of the merry crew.

“My my George. Beaming like a proud papa.”

Peggy had made her way to him unnoticed, the last of the champagne in her hand. George blushed. Had he been smiling that much? He glanced back up at Ben, who was being climbed all over in celebration by pilots and crew alike. Peggy followed his gaze, a smile on her lips.

“I’d get in there and get a lick while you still can. There won't be a drop of booze on him when he crawls out from under there.”

The thought made George squirm, a mixture of jealousy and arousal unfurling in his stomach. “ _Inappropriate_ , Ms. Shippen.” He clipped, hoping he could scare her out of her casual demeanor. Peggy smiled, shrugging slightly as she sipped the last of the wine from the bottle.

“Oh boo. Who hasn't licked a pilot around here.”

“I can see why you and Gilbert got along so well.”

“Much to John’s dismay.”

George laughed, albeit against his better judgement. Peggy rolled the bottle between her palms. “You really do look good, George. I haven't seen you smile in a long time.”

“Thank you...Peggy.” He felt out of place using her name, but it was the only way he could show his gratitude at the moment. “Martha would have loved this.” His eyes were drawn back to Ben; she would have _loved_ Ben.

A firm squeeze on his shoulder signaled Peggy’s departure, though he hardly spared her another glance. He was captivated by Ben. It was like the small fragile person in his bunk, and the vivacious man in uniform finally meshed. He was two halves of a zipper, undone by trauma, and finally realigned. Every piece fell into place, leaving a stunning young man.

George admired him from afar, even as the crowd started to move the party elsewhere. He watched Ben laugh, and humbly accept compliments. He smiled at how he ran his hands through his hair, trying to disperse the embarrassment from all the attention. He even bore through the innate jealousy of watching Caleb catch Ben’s sensitive earlobe in his teeth, just to take in the delightful way Ben flushed and melted-- the crowd hollering and whistling as Caleb flashed them a thumbs up.

That, though, was as much as his heart could take. The day was still new, and despite it being Christmas, there was no place for him to be. He turned to leave, but somehow caught Ben’s eye as he did so. Ben removed himself from Caleb’s grasp, and smiling sweetly, he mouthed across the room.

“ _Thank you”_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More benwash on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy 
> 
> Feedback always appreciated! Let me know you had fun :)


	14. Winter Wisdom

George was _proud_ of Ben’s progress. Almost New Years, and he and Ben had taken to meeting at lunch, chatting about their day until George could no longer ignore the teetering pile of work. More often than not, Ben stuck around, helping thin out the workload and keep him company. There was new confidence in him; the first drop erasing any fears he held about fighting again.

It did disappoint him that Ben’s newfound duties got in the way of reading. With Degas Cordial as the only other jaeger, Ben and Caleb were assigned night shifts. It became more important that Ben stick out a regular sleep schedule, and he couldn't sneak away to read anymore. But lunch was always there. It wasn't as cozy, definitely not as fun as reading, but George lived for it.

The fact that being alone in his room, feeling fine despite the anniversary of Martha’s death only a few days away, stunned him. Maybe he would come to his senses. Maybe this was just some blissful numbness, and his whole world will come crashing down the moment midnight hits a few days from now. He read the journal fondly, a few tears shed...but dried. No crying tonight, apparently. Nothing but the deep sense of pride fueling him forward.

Without Ben he too took to a regular sleep schedule. His afternoon naps came to a halt, no longer needing to recharge before his long night with Ben. Still, the bed felt empty as he slid beneath the sheets, reaching to put out the light and resign.

“ _George_!"

George withdrew his hand from the lamp, a pang of fear hitting him.

“Benjamin?”

“George open up, _please_!”

He sounded frantic. George’s mind spun out of control. Was he hurt? Was it a nightmare? What on earth did this poor boy do to deserve another horrible night. He scrambled out of bed, rushing to pull open the heavy door.

“Oh my”

Ben stood in the hallway, soaking wet and shivering. His arms were wrapped tightly around his torso, trying desperately to keep some warmth about him. The way his teeth chattered told George it definitely was not working.

“The pipe...in my room...it burst….”

He said this through sucking breaths, icy cold water still pooling around him. “My whole room is wrecked. C-can I stay here?”

George looked Ben over; he was a mess. Tshirt turned transparent, clinging to his chest. His loose pajama bottoms so soaked they stuck to his legs, and George could almost make out the outline of _something_ …

“Of course-- come in. You're freezing. Come in.”

Ben hobbled inside, tiny footsteps leaving little wet prints on the floor. “Ah _shit_ , your floor. George, I’m sorry.” George didn't care. He needed to get Ben warm and dry. He opened his armoire, pulling a few fresh towels out.

“Here, one for the floor and the rest for you. And uh…take these too” he said, pulling a pajama top out of the drawer. It was one of George’s well worn silk tops; deep navy blue, soft, billowy. It would keep Ben plenty warm.

Ben blushed. “Thank you. Should I just--”

“Hot shower would be best. Take your time. Jam one of those under the door to keep the steam in, and I’ll make us some tea.”

“Thanks, I feel like a drowned rat right now.”

Ben smiled, and as awful as it was that his room was flooded, George was thankful it gave him another night with him.

With the water boiling and the tea steeping, George slid back into bed, hoping to warm the covers just a little for him. He leaned against the headboard, listening to the shower start up. A telltale heat rose to his face. Ben, naked, in his shower. He’d probably revisit that thought later.

Instead he preoccupied himself, scanning today’s newspaper half heartedly, just a little sad that he had no time to do it before. It seems there was no time for any leisure anymore, not with the Shatterdome scarce on jaegers. Which reminded him that he needed to call the Greenland manufacturers...as well as confirm that the port in Ketchikan was still functional…and numerous other oddities that added up over the day, too numerous for one man to complete in a timely fashion. Not that he ever was punctual. That was Martha.

He was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of the shower stopping, and rose to pour the tea. The bathroom door clicked open, and George smiled at the hurried sound of footsteps -- Ben jumping into bed at an alarming speed.

“Cozy?”

“Oh yes, very. I missed this _quilt_. My blanket feels like paper compared to this.” He sighed, pulling the covers to his nose. Only the those blue eyes peered over the top, watching George as he returned with two steamy cups.

“Those standard issue blankets are a joke. I wouldn't have survived this long without Martha’s quilt.” He said, making Ben scooch to the edge near the nightstand, the cup placed within arm’s reach. George carefully climbed over him and into bed without spilling a drop. Ben hummed from underneath the blanket.

“Winter wisdom a plenty. Quilts, socks, makeshift steam rooms.” He laughed, escaping the heat of the blanket to sip his tea. George smiled, admiring how small Ben looked swathed in his pajama top. He just might let him keep it.

“Silk too. It keeps the heat in.”

Ben snapped his fingers, as if putting the pieces together. “See? Yeah I wondered why you had all these silk pjs. Always thought you would be more of a flannel guy.” George laughed, placing a hand on the top of Ben’s head, pushing him down into the pillows.

“If that’s a crack at me being a country boy, I won’t respond to it.” He let out a sigh. “But yes, back at home I wore lots of flannel. But there’s no dogs here. No little nails that can put runs in the silk, so I upgraded.”

“You had dogs?” Ben said, sitting up excitedly.

“I had _five_. Lots of land for them to run on, at night they’d curl up by the bed. Lots of little snores. I miss it.” George couldn't help but smile at the way Ben was looking at him; hugging his pillow, expectantly waiting for more dog stories.

“We had a big bed, which was two kings pushed together. On weekends I would nap, and the dogs would pile up onto the bed with me. I always said I'd sleep for an hour, but when they fell asleep I was too comfortable to move. I didn't want to wake them. They'd make all these sad little whines if you left. So we slept until dinner, every Saturday, until Martha put out dinner and they would trample me to get a bite.”

“That sounds like heaven.”

“It was. We had to give them away when we joined the program. But...when this is all over, and I’m home, I’m adopting a litter. Start all over in a full house.” He looked down at Ben, who was wistfully hanging on to every word. “Do you have any plans?”

His eyes looked a little sad, and George wondered if he accidentally touched a nerve. “I,uh, don't really have any. I haven't been back to Setauket for more than 2 days since I was 18. I figured I’d I just find someplace...teach...Caleb wants me to tag along to Greenland for some fun, but I hate being a tag along.”

George felt a pang of sadness. He didn't want to probe, but he had a general idea of why Ben wasn't eager to go back. Small town, gossip, and the added attention for being gay. Not everyone was lucky to have acres they could hole up in to escape prying eyes. He ran a hand through Ben’s hair, the damp golden locks looking more honey brown in the lamp light.

“You’re always welcome to visit me in Virginia, if you're not busy that is.”

“ _Yeah_?” His eyes lit up, as if he were already planning his trip.

“Absolutely. It gets a little lonely, moreso now that it's just me. Come by anytime.”

“I'm going to steal a few dogs.” Ben said, “If Caleb tries to drag me to Greenland, I’m taking your dogs with me. Oh which reminds me, did you call---”

“I forgot to call Greenland.”

“ _George_.”

George sighed. “I know. There's just so much to do here. And your help has been fantastic, but it's like I need a whole team of you just to get something _done_. But you've got your own duties to deal with. Which reminds me...you're on duty tonight, right?”

Ben let out a huff, looking more like a child trying to avoid bedtime than a pilot. George knew he should let him sleep. Now that he was nice and warm, his job was done. No need to risk ruining his new routine.

“I’m _proud_ of you, Benjamin. You’re doing so well.” He said, almost breathlessly. Ben’s cheeks turned pink, head bowed to accept the compliment. ‘ _Beautiful_ ’.

The silence between them grew thick, and George cleared his throat. “We should try to sleep.”

“Yeah ok…”

He leaned across Ben, reaching for the lamp, when for the second time that night he was stopped by a sound. The smallest hitch of Ben’s breath, as George brushed lightly across him to turn out the light. Instinctively, he turned, his nose bumping up against Ben’s ever so slightly.

The next thing he felt were lips.

Ben’s, crashing into his, two hands cupping his face firmly. His heart stopped. This was _real_. Ben was _kissing_ him. And just as quick as it happened, he pulled away, eyes wide and searching his. Searching for signs of fear...or disgust...or desire. That heat George had harbored for so long unfurled in his gut, and every nerve felt aflame.

“ _God_ yes”

It was like a starter’s pistol. Ben throwing himself on top of George, the two a tangle of limbs and sloppy kisses. For someone so small, he was quick, nimbly pinning George to the mattress and straddling him in a matter of seconds. He moaned as Ben ground down on him, planting kisses on whatever skin he could find.

Ben leaned back, looking down at George, half propped up on the pillows. From here, Ben loomed over him, and it was captivating. He ran his palms up under the billowy silk shirt to hook his hands in the waistband of his boxers---

“ _Oh_ …”

Bare skin underneath his warm palms. _No boxers_. Just _his_ shirt. His cock throbbed as he parted the hem of the shirt, taking a peek underneath at Ben’s growing arousal.

“How _pretty_ you are”

Ben turned pink, moving to pull down the hem of the shirt shyly, but stopped as George wrapped a strong hand around his cock, stroking slowly. His breathing became uneven, eyes closed as he rolled his hips, pushing himself further into George’s palm.

George chuckled, gazing up at him. “So so pretty, Benjamin.” Ben picked up his pace, impatiently thrusting into his hand before George decided to try and slow things down. He’s obviously been as eager about this as he had, and it was something to savor.

One quick motion, his arm around Ben’s slender hip, and he pulled him down to the bed. Side by side, George sucked at the sensitive skin of Ben’s neck, feeling small moans vibrate under his lips. One hand still worked at Ben’s cock, slow even strokes, teasing him.

“ _George_ ”

“I know. I’m going to take care of you”

Ben melted, lips parted in a silent ‘o’ as his hands fumbled at George’s top. George pressed his lips close to Ben’s ear. “ _Tell me what you want”_

“ _Off_ \--take this _off_ ”

He hadn't even undone two buttons before Ben descended on his throat, nipping and sucking bruises along the collarbone. George moaned as the shirt was pulled from him, Ben quickly regaining control of the situation. He was impatient, working fast to push George back into the soft cushion of the bed. He really _really_ wanted this.

“Benjamin!” George cried, a little flustered at how fast Ben had kissed his way down the the waistband of his bottoms. Slender fingers hooked the elastic, and yanked them down. Panic hit him as Ben leaned back to take him all in-- eyes wide and roaming over his body. He hadn't been seen like this in _God_ knows how long; but here he was, bare chested, pants and underpants around his knees, on display for Ben--he held his breath and studied his face.

Red tinged cheeks, eyes flickering all over--unsure where to land first, lips parted and panting. And then...hunger. Dark hunger in his eyes, and on his lips, silently mouthing one word:

“ _Yes_ ”

George gasped as Ben parted his legs, biting down on his inner thigh. “Ben!” His hands found their way into his hair, pulling gently. Ben lifted his head.

“Good?”

George nodded, breathless, “Oh yes, you look...you look.. _so_ …” Ben smiled coyly , hands wrapping around his cock. George watched as he pressed his tongue flat against the head; hot wet heat. He shuddered as Ben took in the tip, hollowing his cheeks. A strangled moan left him as he watched him sink down, wetting the length of his cock.

George was in awe. Ben; pure sweet Benjamin...absolutely _filthy_. He moaned around him, eyes fluttering close as his thumbs dug into George’s hipbones, working him with unabashed enthusiasm. George pressed his palm on the curve of the back of his skull, teasing the idea of a good yank on those locks. Ben’s eyes flickered up at him, dark and appreciative. He gave an experimental tug.

Oh what a sound that made.

He tightened his fist, coiling more hair between his fingers, but he did not move. No, Ben would have to do something truly outstanding to earn it. He didn't have to wait long, unsurprisingly, as Ben’s deft tongue brushed against a sensitive patch of skin expertly. He yanked his fist back, rewarding the good work. It was too much; the moaning, that tongue, the way his face looked as he pulled on those silly strands.

“Ben, I’m--”

George figured Ben got the idea, since he was cleaning up before he could remember the words to the last part of that sentence. George stared down in awe, watching Ben lap up the mess--that little pink tongue out to work.

He reached out and grabbed the collar of the silk top. “ _My turn”_.

Ben squealed as he was lifted back to the head of the bed, legs spread, with one of George’s knees between them. George wasted no time going for the most sensitive area he knew of.

Nipping the earlobe was one thing, but sucking on it brought forth a whole new realm of pleasure, transforming Ben into a writhing mass beneath George’s bulk. His hips ground into the knee, trying to relieve the ache; George found this particularly pleasing. He pressed his lips close to his ear.

“Do you _want_ this, Benjamin?”

Whimpers, pants, and finally a throaty “Yes, _God_ yes”. What a lovely response that had been. Had George not come first, he’d be pressed to fuck Ben right there. Luckily he could draw this out before his own need arose again. He hiked his knee up closer to Ben’s cock, rocking it back and forth gently. Ben ground into it mercilessly.

“ _How long?”_

Ben gasped as George nipped at his ear again. “ _Weeks_. George, oh my _god_ , _please_ ” George paid no mind to the plea. He was too stunned at this little confession. _Weeks_? Ben had wanted him for so _long_ … It almost made him sad that he hadn't kissed him sooner. Frantic hip thrusts sucked him back into the moment. Ben was sensitive; too much of this and he might end it without George getting a taste.

George kissed his way down, stopping briefly to catch one nipple between his teeth. A nice sound came from that; he’d have to return to it later. He tickled the inner thigh with kisses, licking the sensitive juncture of the hip before taking Ben into his mouth.

“ _George_ ”

His name never sounded so good. Breathy, appreciative, desperate for more. Everything he had dreamed of, and well beyond that. Just as he had imagined, Ben would buck up into his mouth--the poor boy was so sensitive.

And George never let his eyes leave him. He watched his face as it slackened, moans pouring out seemingly without effort. It flooded the room, filling his ears with echoes of a name that wasn't quite his anymore. It was part cry, part gasp or whimper. It meant “ _more_ ”, “ _please_ ”, “ _faster_ ”, and “ _yes_ ”. It meant Ben _wanted_ him, fully and completely.

The final one meant Ben was satisfied; fists twisted in the sheets above his head, legs spread as wide as his narrow hips allowed.

George cleaned up as best he could, watching those blue eyes creak open. He was glowing. Content, and flush with pleasure, eyes sparkling, lips parted.

He pulled himself up and drew Ben into his chest, panting heavily as he wrapped the quilt around them. “So, I, uh...I like you.” He stammered. Ben laughed breathlessly.

“Oh good, yeah. I'm glad we made that clear.”

His heart was still pounding as Ben laid his ear on his chest, an appreciative hum escaping him. “I like you too, George. You’re so...wait…” Ben looked down at his feet.

“Were you wearing those socks I gave you this whole time?” He laughed sweetly. George squeezed him closer.

“They're fantastic socks, Benjamin. I still feel bad I didn't give you anything.”

Ben moaned, kissing the underside of his jaw, hands wandering down his chest. “That’s alright. I know what I _want_.”

George smiled, kissing the top of Ben’s head. “Oh? And what would that be?” He watched as Ben slid beneath the quilt.

“ _More_ ”

Hot wet heat enveloped him once again.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More benwash can be seen on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy. 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know you had fun :)


	15. Kaiju Alert

George’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the alarm. Long and blaring--not his clock--kaiju alarm.

“Benjamin, get up!”

He rolled over, shaking Ben out of his deep slumber. It took more than one shout to get him to open his eyes, it was obvious just how relaxed their previous activities had made him. His hair stuck to his face, tiny drool stain on the pillow and on the oversized sleeves of the silk shirt.

“What’s happening?” He mumbled, wiping his cheek down with the back of his hand. George pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, completely taken with how he looked.

“Kaiju breach. Get to C-Deck.”

Ben shot up, officially out of relaxation mode. George rolled out of bed, quickly shoving on his pajama pants, watching as Ben tried to dash towards the door.

“ _Pants_ , Benjamin.”

He stopped, and pushed the hem of the shirt down as far as it would go, which to George’s delight raised the back just enough to spy the curve of Ben’s ass. “Oh _shit_ , George. All my clothes are soaked! I can't go up like this--”

“ _Easy, easy_. I have something.” George said. He fumbled through the nightstand, taking out the large ring and flipping through the assorted brass and silver keys. He finally stopped on a little copper key. “This is the store room. There's spare jumpsuits. Come, quickly. We need you up there now.”

Ben wrung at the hem of his shirt nervously, cheeks pink. “How far? I mean, I’m…” George opened the door, and wrapped an arm around Ben’s waist.

“Not far. I’ll cover you. Between that shirt, and these pants, we’ve got one good pair of pajamas between us. Now, come on. Double time, let’s go.”

The store room was small, only the size of a walk in closet. George opened it quickly, ushering Ben inside before joining him, clicking the door shut. The flickering light above made the space feel cold and empty, but George felt plenty warm as he pressed up against Ben to rifle through the jumpsuits.

“Medium...medium...here’s one.” He mumbled, quickly taking it off its hanger. “Just a little dusty, but still good.”

Ben had worked the buttons open on the shirt, the silk hanging open to reveal his nakedness as George turned back around. Pressed close, almost chest to chest, it was tempting to keep Ben for another few minutes. Yet the sirens, still blaring, reminded George that this was an emergency. His urges would have to wait.

George unzipped the jumpsuit, well aware that Ben was staring at him; eyes roaming over his bare chest, up his neck and jaw, and lingering at his waistband. He shrugged out of the silk shirt, standing bare for just a minute while George finished preparing the new suit. He wanted George to look at him. It was hard not to. Ben looked ethereal. Soft lips still swollen from kissing, a couple of purplish love bites starting to bruise up and down his thighs. He trembled slightly, knees pressed together from cold or embarrassment. There was a pang of uncertainty in his eyes.

George sighed, pulling Ben in close for a long kiss. Shaky hands found their way to his waist, clutching at the fabric around his hips. He was so warm and soft, and trusting. He must feel so many things right now, what with their relationship taking a few big steps forward in only a few hours.

“This wasn't a one time thing, Benjamin, I promise. You mean _everything_ to me. I'm so _proud_ of you.” George whispered. Ben’s eyes lit up,the hands at his waist gripped him tightly, though not from fear this time. Slender fingers rubbed at his hip bones, moving the soft fabric over it so gently it sent tingles down his spine.

“Can I come back to your room? After all of this?” He asked, a small smile tugging at his lips. George felt that familiar warmth of arousal, and pulled Ben in so he was flush against his body, drinking him in. No jasmine smell, just his body wash, but still very appealing.

“Of course. After all...we’ve wanted this for _weeks_. Might as well start making up for lost time.”

Those long lashes fluttered as endless fantasies flickered in Ben’s mind. George could already see the gears in motion. But for now, he needed to get Ben upstairs before people started looking for him. Wouldn't be too nice to be found undressed in a storage room. George handed him the jumpsuit, exchanging it for his silk shirt. They dressed quickly, trading flirtatious glances as they suited up for battle.

“By the way…” Ben said, securing the button on the top of his zipper. “You shouldn't wear those pjs.” George looked down at them. They weren't stained or ripped, a little wrinkly but not awful.

“No? Are they bad?”

Ben pressed a finger to his neck, and George instantly felt the sting of a bruise. His cheeks flushed red.

“I messed you up bad. Wear something with a stiff collar.” Ben laughed, smoothing down his hair and opening the storage room door. “I gotta go! See you in the control room!”

George took no time high tailing it back to his room. Now that Ben was on his way, he needed to make his appearance for the drop. He rushed into the bathroom, curious to see what Ben had found so funny, and flicked on the light.

“ _Oh_ …”

Deep purple and red, ringed around his neck and down his chest. Extensive. He pressed two fingers to it, feeling the throb where Ben’s teeth had raked across his skin. He was, if anything, very enthusiastic. George chuckled. He’d really need that stiff collar. Unfortunately, his casual wardrobe didn't accommodate Ben’s gift. He would have to put on his uniform, which at 3 am, is slightly suspicious. He slipped into the uniform, buttoning the shirt up to the very top button. Wrinkled. That's good, he can work with that. He fell asleep in his uniform.

George checked the mirror one last time, observing only the top of a hickey peeking from his collar. It would have to do. He had a mission to call.  
\----------------------------------------------  
Controlling his rapid heartbeat was hard. Standing in the control room, George became increasingly aware of his situation with Ben. Out here they weren't Ben and George, cozy reading companions who just got physical. They were General Washington and Jaeger Captain Tallmadge, boss and employee who probably broke five or six protocols _just reading._ As proud as he was of Ben, he needed to keep their life secret. The poor boy’s reputation would be ruined if this got out. Pretty pilots who sleep with their boss aren't looked upon too fondly.

He walked coolly up to the main board, standing idly beside Andre. The man was dressed down, wearing lounge pants and a long sleeved shirt, same as pretty much everyone else in the room. He glanced up at George, face screwed with confusion.

“Day starting this early?”

George huffed, trying his best to play up how tired he was. “Exhausted. I just sleep dressed now.” That earned a little chuckle from Andre, whose attention was back to the computer where Caleb and Ben’s stats were coming in.

“I hear you. I've been here all night waiting for this breach. I would _kill_ to go back and sleep in my own bed.”

A sigh of relief almost passed his lips. Andre was stuck here, meaning that there was no one around to hear Ben last night. George stood a little more confidently, happy that he didn't need to come up with an explanation for any needy moans coming from his room. If all there was left to do was cover his love bites, it would be a piece of cake.

George flipped through the mission report as the mic for Seta Five was patched through.

“ _You’re lookin’ good for someone who lost his beauty sleep”_

_  
“Maybe I look good because I went to bed early,instead of pretending night duties didn’t exist”_

Andre tapped at his monitor, taking note of their vitals. “Here we go, Seta Five. Initiating neural handshake. 3, 2,1­­­”

He glanced up at the dual monitors above Andre as the drift initiated, Caleb and Ben were sailing smoothly. The little blip on Ben’s screen was most likely due to Alex, but to George’s relief it was only a brief uptick. Caleb,however, showed some signs of distress.

“Brewster’s heart rate just jumped significantly.” Peggy said, her tone heavy with concern. “He’s keeping it under control, but something’s caused him to panic.”

Andre shrugged his shoulders, double checking the numbers. “It's a jump, yeah, but nothing serious. It's possible Brewster is shouldering some of Tallmadge’s anxiety over Iron Patriot. Brewster is better at distancing himself from it.”

Dread formed like a thick ball in George’s stomach. Neural Load Sympathy was common; as two pilots merged, each one would balance out the other’s weaknesses. The stronger the bond, the easier it was. However, George feared that Caleb taking on Ben’s traumas would lead to another burned out pilot if left unchecked. He bit his lip as they exited the drift.

“Well done, Seta Five. Your obje--”

“General Washington, permission to take a five. I just found some shite out.” Caleb said, almost as if he was scolding Ben, over the mic.

His heart stopped.

 _Caleb_.

How on earth could he have forgotten that Ben drifts with _Caleb_. A few seconds and he knows everything, he’s _seen_ everything. George coughed awkwardly over the microphone. “Erm...make it quick, Brewster. We don't have all day” he clipped, pressing the button to silence anything that might come out of Seta Five. The last thing he needed was Caleb scolding Ben about his sexual exploits over the PA system.

Andre turned towards him. “ _George, what the fuck--”_. His eyes dropped down towards George’s collar, a look of exhausted annoyance on his face. George gently tugged up the collar, hoping that the bruises weren't making themselves known.

The silence was stifling, people looking at him strangely for allowing his pilots to confer privately. Too many eyes on him. Even fully dressed he felt naked. Could they see all the marks Ben had left? Did he even dress after he parted with him? Or was this some hideous nightmare where he was exposed, where everyone could see just how many times Ben had raked his teeth across him.

His knees threatened to give out when the mic finally turned back on.

“Seta Five ready for the drop!”  
\----------------------------------------------  
Andre sighed, leaning back and rubbing his eyes.

  
“That's a wrap. Good job everyone. Go get some sleep” he said, waving the crew off. He turned to George, eyes bleary. “What a great way to start New Year’s Eve. Maybe we can wish for this war to end so I can get a good night’s sleep.”

George stashed away the folder, along with the printed results of the drop. “Not how New Year’s works, unfortunately. But we can _resolve_ to end this war.”

Andre laughed, rising from his chair to stretch. “Good man, George. Making us all strive to beat our own personal goals. Mine is going to be to have 8-10 hours of uninterrupted sleep.” He looked George up and down, eyeing the uniform once more. “And you? Are you going to just hobble around all day in that or is it back for some shut eye.”

George tensed, not sure how to answer under the intense stare. “I’ll probably freshen up. As for sleep...I’m old. I've been doing the early bird morning shuffle at 5 am for a while now.” He glanced at his watch, hoping to come off casual. “And it's already 4. So, we’ll see”

Andre let out a little “ _mhm_ ”, possibly tempted to bring up the red peeking out from under the stiff collar of George’s dress shirt, but instead he just made for the elevator. The gate rattled open, and he stepped inside gingerly.

“I’ll see you later at the party. I plan on staying up this year. Sleep schedule be damned.”

George laughed, heading out towards the exit, pretending to head towards his office. “You're not as young as you think, John. Go easy.”

“You’re right. Not all of us can be _25_ ” Andre teased, waving goodbye as the elevator descended.

‘ _Shit_.’  
\----------------------------------------------  
George took the long way back to his bunk, committing to the lie that he had desperately tried to sell. It was a route that would take him around C-Deck, though by now Ben was probably out of his jaeger suit and waiting down by the dorms. The doors were mostly dark, with only one or two crew members there hosing kaiju blue off of the exterior of the cockpit. He turned to head down the adjacent corridor. ‘ _I just need to walk fast’_

“Hey, Georgie!”

‘ _Walk faster’_

Caleb had been waiting with the crew, somehow guessing George might try to slip out the back exit.   
For a short man he walked quickly, closing the distance between them even as George took longer strides.

“Where ya goin’, General? I just want to talk to ya”

George cleared his throat. “Mr. Brewster, it is _late_. Any edits to your report can be made in the morning.” He growled, trying to mask his fear with authority. It didn't phase Caleb, who proceeded to advance on his until he was backed into the corner of the hall.

“Don't play stupid with me, General. You know I saw you and Benny in the drift.” He said, glaring up at George with such intensity that it could have burned a hole right through him.

“I--I--”

Caleb held up a hand to silence him.

“I've known Benny since we were kids. He is good, and kind, and way better than anyone deserves. Now we may not be an item, but we are a _pair_. Anywhere he goes, I go. Anyone he takes into his life, I keep an eye on. So I will ask you this once.

Was this a one time thing?

Did all those times Benny came to me, talking about how you were reading to him...how you were helping him cope...mean anything? Or do you get off on repairing things you think are _broken_?”

George was speechless. He wanted to protest. Tell Caleb how dear Ben was to him. Yet the words escaped him as he endured the brunt of Caleb’s anger.

“Ben is...he’s…”

“I swear to _Christ_ , Georgie, you better say something soon or I will _flip shite._ Don't you for one _second_ think I won't go over your head on this. There are people bigger than you in the PPDC who will back me up.”

The threat was real, but George could see the tears forming in Caleb’s eyes. God, how could he believe that he would dump someone like Benjamin. Their nights were special, intimate. He felt so at home with him. Until a few hours ago he couldn't even admit his feelings to Ben, and now he had to find the words for Caleb. He was a stammering mess.

“Ben is...I..I like him. A lot.”

Caleb continued to scowl, hands on his hips. “And I’ve _loved_ him since we were seven, so you're going to have to deal with why I have a problem with him in a situation that could _hurt_ \---”

“ _Never_. I would _never_ hurt him.”

It came out angry, something that sparked interest in Caleb. “How can I be sure?” He said, his eyes searching George’s face for some trace of a lie.

“You _can't_. I can't guarantee I will call the right shots. But I know something good when I see it, and that's Benjamin. Taking him in the first night he came was one of the best things that's happened to me since Martha passed. And you're right, he's too good for us, but he's choosing to spend time with us. If his feelings change, I’ll go away, even though I care about him a lot.”

George felt embarrassed, the words falling out of him as he tried to explain just how badly he wanted to be a part of Ben’s life. He understood why Caleb was so protective. Someone had to be the safeguard protecting Ben’s open and trusting nature.

Caleb dropped his hands from his hips, shifting his body to a more open and relaxed stance. That characteristic bright smile returned, and George found himself wrapped up in two great arms.

“Ah, Georgie! Good answer. I'm sorry I put the heat on ya! I saw most things in the drift; the readin’ and such. Benny likes you. Won't stop gushin’ about you. I just had to come make sure things were in order.”

His cheeks burned, surprised that Ben talked of him so fondly to Caleb. “He talks about me?” He breathed. Caleb laughed, and slapped him on the shoulder.

“All the time! Just do me a favor, won't ya? Don't show me your false teeth. They spook me.”

George smiled coyly, pretending to reach for the false teeth on his upper jaw. “You mean these teeth?”

Caleb groaned, waving his hands and backing off. “Yes! Those! Don't do it!”

“Yes, do it? These teeth?” George asked, still holding his fingers by his lips. “I'm old, you have to speak clearly.”

“Do. not. show. me. the. teeth.”

George lowered his hand, having pushed Caleb enough for tonight. “That's all you had to say, Mr.Brewster.” He chided, putting his big General voice on once more. Caleb straightened up, uncomfortable with how the situation flipped.

“Then, I guess this is goodnight. Say hi to Benny for me.” He said, rushing back down the hallway. George pressed the button to the elevator, eager to meet Ben downstairs.

“And goodnight to you, Brewster”

 


	16. The Talk

Ben was waiting outside his room, just as planned. He was leaned up against the doorway, eyes closed as he fought off the exhaustion of the fight.

“Benjamin…” George whispered, lightly taking his shoulder. Ben woke with a start, a small gasp as he jolted back to reality.

“Oh! I...I passed out a second.” He stammered, voice thick with sleep. George chuckled, leading him inside. He couldn't help but mull over Caleb’s words as he watched Ben shuffle to the bed, his hair mussed up and eyes bleary. Out of all the people Ben chose to be next to, he chose  _ him. _ It felt strange thinking that someone wanted you, especially when they seemed to be in a league all their own. And with their relationship springing from close companions to hot, must-have-you-now lovers, it might be time to address some issues.

George made his way to bed, not making any effort to remove his uniform as he shucked off his shoes. “I ran into Caleb…” he started. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ben perk up, a touch of panic on his face. “He had a few interesting words to share with me”

“George, I’m sorry! I didn't mean to tell, he just  _ saw _ us in the drift---”

“I'm not  _ mad. _ Of course your drift partner is going to see. We just...talked...is all. And maybe you and I should discuss what we are before we go any further.”

Ben sat up straight, hands fiddling in his lap. “Yeah, yeah sure. Um…” he looked uncertain of what to do. Was he trying to find a label? Boyfriend? Fuck buddies? Something that was just a misunderstanding? George felt his throat tighten the longer Ben took. “I like you, George.  _ A lot. _ Being with you is fantastic and I...I don't want to impose on you--”

“ _ Never.  _ You could never impose.” George interrupted, taking Ben’s hand in his. “You're so  _ good _ Ben. Honestly, to think that you've been imposing on me? Your company has been the most joy I've had all year. I...I really like you too.” 

There was a pause. A little moment where they both smiled shyly, remembering just how frantically they had “ _ liked” _ each other before that alarm rang. It passed as George remembered why this discussion was needed.

“Which brings me to my next question. Are you  _ ready _ for this?” 

Ben tilted his head, puzzled. “Ready? For you?”

“In a way. Ben, I...I don't want people to look at you and think ‘ _ Washington’s favorite _ ’. What we’re doing-- _ have _ been doing-- skirts the line on a lot of PPDC protocol. You're a fine pilot. A damn talented one and it pains me to think your reputation would be marred simply by…” George couldn't bring himself to finish. He simply gestured between the two of them, hoping to convey his meaning. 

Ben ran his thumbs over the back of George’s broad hand. “Then it's a secret. You and I are...reading. Or  _ working.” _

George shook his head, heat rising to his face. “I can't ask that of you, Benjamin. Your friends, your life, you can't feel good keeping secrets. I can't keep you locked up in this bunk with me.” He didn't know what he expected. Maybe that Ben would come to his senses and realize that George would always be like this. A washed up old pilot who doesn't leave his bunk. They can't be affectionate in public. They'd rarely get to escape the Shatterdome together for dates. Eyes would always be on George. Maybe George wanted to rip off the bandaid now, rather than let it try to heal the wound he nursed. 

Ben sighed, tears in his eyes. “Do you not...do you not want me anymore?” His voice was small, but cut George like a knife. 

“Of course I want you, Benjamin.” George said, his own voice cracking. “I just want you to think about if I’m what  _ you _ want. Look at me...at all of this… You’ve got your whole life ahead of you and I’m nothi---” 

All of that was silenced as Ben surged forward to kiss him. Tears slid down his cheeks, tickling Ben’s palms as they cupped his face. They parted, and Ben pressed his forehead to George’s. “You're what I want. More than I can ever say. And we can keep it all right here, in this bunk. I promise. It’ll be only us.”

George steadied his breath, hands finding Ben’s waist. “You'd be ok here? With me?” 

“Yes, George. With you.”

George rubbed circles through the jumpsuit, thumbs moving the fabric over his skin. Ben lifted a hand to the zipper, slowly inching it down. “Just imagine…” he said coyly,working the zipper down his chest.

“You...and me” The deep V of skin opening up.

“All alone in here” Pink nipples peeking out.

“No one to bother us.” Soft stomach…

“Nothing to wear…” the zipper reached its end, sharing a glimpse of Ben’s cock turned hard up against his stomach. Ben sat back and let George have a better look, shrugging his shoulders so the jumpsuit fell from them gracefully.

“How does that sound?”

George couldn't resist. Not Benjamin...not when he was like  _ this.  _ Heat unfurled in his gut, and George loosened his tie as he moved to straddle Ben to the bed. 

“That sounds  _ fantastic. _ ” He growled, helping Ben divest the jumpsuit, indulging in his naked form. “And what a cute little boyfriend you are, too.” 

Ben blushed, hands working George’s belt buckle. “I swear I had something witty in mind, but this buckle is so  _ damn--” _ The belt slipped free. “There! Yes! Take the pants off!” George laughed and kicked them off before busying himself with Ben’s cock. 

“There's so much I’ve wanted to do to you, Ben. You have no idea…” he moaned, hand stroking Ben slowly. He relished the way Ben writhed in his palm, cheeks turning pink by the second. 

“Then strip down and  _ show me” _ he gasped, arching into George’s touch. How could George say no to such a lovely offer? So many fantasies, so little time until their alarm clock would go off. George paused to undress fully, not wanting to waste anymore time with teasing.   
“Spread your legs, Benjamin. Let me show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a hiatus but I am back! What You Stole is starting to trickle down to it's last few chapters, with the conclusion to the Kaiju War (And Ben and George's fates) wrapping up in Delphinus Major. 
> 
> I take prompts/questions on my tumblr @grumblebee-trilogy. Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know you had fun.


End file.
